


To Risk Everything

by BrokenBookAddict



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Love, Philinda - Freeform, President AU, Romance, Secret Relationship, Smut, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenBookAddict/pseuds/BrokenBookAddict
Summary: In both life and love it's very much like a game of chess, if you lose your queen, you lose almost everything.
Relationships: Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Comments: 228
Kudos: 321





	1. Taking a chance

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel's Agents of shield. I do own any errors. 
> 
> This marks my first multi chapter fic in this fandom. It's also a prequel to Invasion of Privacy, my President au.

Exactly how much time has been spent looking over these files, would be a complete guess. But it soon so becomes apparent it's time to call it quits. The day has been long, the night doesn't have to be. The words have begun to blur into each other until he couldn't make out the list of sanctions proposed if Iran doesn't sign the nuclear peace deal sent over for approval by his Secretary of State. The sactions need his sign off within forty-eight hours for Secretary Hill to propose them to Iran and although extremely important, he cannot concentrate to the required level required. So tomorrow, he'll take the necessary time to thoroughly review it, despite this weekend supposedly being an opportunity for him to relax. For that to even be a possibility, he'd escaped the Capital for the country retreat, Camp David. Though doubts linger on whether this will actually be a successful break in his busy schedule, it remains to be seen. 

Closing the leather file for now, he sets it aside on the nightstand to join the others. He hasn't totally been able to leave work behind considering the many files, bringing only the necessary to which has deadlines. His eyes watch the clock tick slowly by, second by second until it passes 2.20am. He should really take the opportunity to get some rest but sleep as of late seems to alude him. Tonight proving no different which isn't a surprise after all, given the recent circumstances.

Rubbing at his eyes, he effortlessy slides out of bed and makes for the door. As soon as he opens it however, he's confronted by one of the Secret Service agents standing guard right outside, Agent Mackenzie. 

"Everything alright sir?" 

"Fine, thank you Mack. Can't sleep. I'm going to try some tea." 

Mack nods. "Copy that, Sir." 

Coulson leaves him at his bedroom door and turns left, where further down the hall he finds before him two female agents. The younger of the two greets him with a wide smile despite the late hour, as the other nods respectively. 

"Nice pajamas, Mr President." She wiggles her eyebrows playfully in the way only she can get away with. 

He looks down at himself, taking in his navy sweatpants and faded Captain America tee that had been a gift from his best friend way back when. "Thank you Daisy," he grins back tiredly at one of his favourite agents, moving passed her to the stairs _. "Eagle one on the move"_ follows behind him. It's nice and quiet here, despite the large number of Secret Service men and women stationed throughout the house. There's a quiet hum of energy and conversation that isn't at all disturbing. He arrives at the kitchen far quicker than anticipated, his mind having wandered away to recent events as his feet carry him forward, but when he steps into the doorway the sight within makes him pause as a familiar wave of emotion floods him. Looking over his shoulder, he gestures with his head for the two men to make themselves scarce. He doesn't need their protection when he has the very best right here. Stepping inside, he pushes the door partially closed before moving further into the room. 

"Hey." 

May looks up at the sound of his voice, her hands growing still in their task. "Hi." 

There's a brief moment where they stare at one another before he breaks it by moving to lean against the kitchen island. Forcing his body to relax as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

"Tea?" She asks quietly, eyes on the kettle as she sets it aside. 

"Please." He watches her move easily around the room, to the cupboard behind her for another mug then back to the island. In almost rapt fascination he stares at her hands as he watches her prepare his tea. Graceful yet deadly. He smiles when she adds just the right amount of honey, exactly how he favours it. Coulson moves around to stand beside her, leaning back after accepting the mug when she offers it. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome, Mr President." 

He sighs heavy and his shoulders slump. "It's just us, Melinda. No formalities please." 

May nods, hands wrapping around her own mug as she matches his stance. Steam rises and disappears into thin air before her very eyes. She concentrates upon it, instead of his sudden appearance and rather close proximity. 

Coulson takes a sip of his tea, welcoming the warmth it offers and he sighs at the taste, perfect as always. He's exhausted, his limbs heavy and he can almost feel it down to his very bones but he can't sleep. His mind won't allow him the opportunity by simply switching off, instead it pushes memories of recent events to the forefront of his mind almost on a constant loop. He has to wonder if the lack of sleep is a good thing, he can only imagine the nightmares that would probably plague him if he were able to fall into restless oblivion right now.

It's almost not worth thinking about. 

Because he's almost afraid of the prospect, insomnia saving him from the horrors his mind may possibly conjure up. 

Cutting through his restless pondering is her voice, soft and curious. 

"You still have the shirt, really?"

He looks down at the tee in question, it's faded considerably throughout the years from washing but it's soft and comfortable and one of his favourite, most treasured belongings. "It's a classic."

She rolls her eyes at him, like she knew that were to be his answer. _Of_ _course_ it's a classic, anything regarding Cap is to him. For the most powerful man on the planet, he's such a dork. It warms her heart actually, that he never lost that part to himself. 

"And it was a gift from you." 

"For your birthday, I remember." 

"Hmm." Coulson hums quietly, remembering back to the day in question a few years out of the academy. How she handed over the wrapped gift covered in the familiar tiny shields of Captain America, all the while teasing him she found it in the children's party section at the store. 

He glances at her steadily, but her gaze remains ahead, staring out of the large window opposite. 

A lingering moment of comforable silence descends after the nostalgia but it barely lasts. He hates to follow her teasing with such a topic but still, she has the right to know. "I'm not sure if you were told but he was a lone wolf. A religious fanatic who saw a woman's pro choice rally as perfect opportunity." 

May nods solemnly. "I saw the FBI report." 

Nothing more is said as they each fall back into their thoughts regarding what they know and saw, and there's a lull in conversation before she eventually breaks it again. May's rather chatty tonight, especially for someone who for the majority of the time remains silent unless otherwise prompted. 

"How are you?" 

His head whips in her direction and his incredulous eyes run over her form, taking her in. "Shouldn't I be asking _you_ that?" 

She frowns down into her tea, avoiding his eyes. "I'm fine." 

"Ah yes, I'm familiar with the _I'm fine_ method of coping, if you remember."

"Of course." She sounds irritated by the simple fact that he is. But that comes with being best friends for nearly three decades. He knows her _too_ well sometimes, she thinks. 

Coulson pauses then, "so you'll also know you scared the shit out of me." 

May quickly looks up at him beside her. "It's my job."

He clenches his jaw because yes, it is her job but that doesn't mean he has to like it, because he doesn't. "That doesn't make me feel any better and it certainly doesn't make what happened yesterday okay." When she doesn't say anything in reply, he carries on. "Are you alright?" 

The softness of his question and the underlining concern which is evident across his face and in his words, make her look up at him. He draws her in and she's powerless against it, always has been. "I'll be fine in a few days, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before." 

He stares her. Hazel eyes scrutinise over the visible injuries. Seven stitches above her right eyebrow, bruising down her face which is turning a nasty shade of black and blue, and a graze across her chin. Then there's the injuries not visible to his concerned gaze to consider. 

After the incident, when the scene had been cleared, after he'd been rushed to safety and the debris had settled through the park, he'd been briefed on the situation and her injuries. The suicide bomber had taken no lives but had injured many though none seriously. Melinda, along with a handful of other Secret Service agents had seen what was about to happen and ran toward the face of danger with the intention to halt the following incident. As chaos erupted throughout the park, as his detail did as there were trained in getting him to safety, he had looked back in perfect time to see her flung through the air as the bomber detonated his vest. He remembers clearly struggling against Mack and Hunter, trying to stop their retreat to go back but he couldn't despite his best efforts, because before he knew it he was pushed into an SUV and driven away. His heart had hammered in his chest as he threw demands at his staff to find out what the hell had happened and if she was okay. For the first hour all he'd been told by his staff was May had been taken to Walter Reed and was stable. He hadn't relaxed until he'd spoken to her hours later, despite protests on his part and also the doctors, she returned to duty as soon as she were able a few hours after being cleared. Which didn't come as much a surprise. 

Looking at her now, battered and bruised but standing solid and alive beside him... his heart thuds as he remembers with clear clarity the extreme moment of dread of worrying what if? What if she wasn't alright? He remembers how his heart hammered in his chest, the nausea that rolled in waves and the tumbling thoughts that followed begging for her to be okay. Looking at her now, he realises exactly what that ache in his chest was, _is_ , as he waited for news. _Love_. He loves her and he always has, ever since the academy. It's always been there, resting under the surface but never fully acknowledged, until yesterday. 

Once the realisation came, he couldn't ignore it any longer. Then or now. 

Before he even realises what he's doing, he sets aside his mug and turns to her. His hand moves to her face, where fingertips barely graze over her bruised skin in a ghosting caress. His other hand rises to join the other to gently cup her face. 

May gazes up at him, surprised by his display. "Phil?" 

"You scared the shit out of me," he admits quietly, barely a whisper but she hears loud and clear. 

Her eyes flutter closed when his thumb brushes her lower lip. "What are you doing?" 

But Coulson doesn't answer, instead he steps into her space and proceeds to drop his head to hers. He pauses for the tiniest of moments before his mouth meets her, his breath crashes harshly against her own where he brushes his lips over hers. "I could have lost you," he mutters against her before pressing more firmly, but his kiss remains soft and slow and inquisitive almost. Like he's taking the time to discover the feel of her, the taste of her... There's no hint of urgency, because this isn't a race. It's a discovery. He steps closer to crowd her against the island and he smiles into her mouth when her fingers tighten in the t-shirt she bought for him on his birthday many years ago. He groans quietly when she flicks her tongue against the roof of his mouth and the noise seems to shatter the moment because she jerks away from him sharply. 

Her breathing is ragged and her eyes dilated but she looks taken aback as she shakes her head. "You can't do that Phil, you can't just kiss me like that." 

"Melinda?"

Again she shakes her head, as the hands that still at his chest now gently push him away. "You-- we can't do this." 

Coulson stares at her, the taste of her still lingering upon his lips. "Melinda--" He tries again but she cuts him off when no one else would dare to. 

"You're President of the United States, Phil." She tells him softly, almost like she's reminding him of his job. "I'm head of your security." 

There isn't a world in this universe where they could work, because of their work. It's complicated and messy. 

"You're also my partner and my best friend since the academy. None of the rest matters." 

"It does," May argues softly. "Of course it does Phil. We both know that, there's no use thinking otherwise." 

He steps forward but stops, a frown crossing his tired, handsome face when she steps away from him. A single gesture hurting far more than he ever thought it possibly could. "I don't want to dance around this anymore, not after yesterday." 

The thing is she doesn't want to either, but the situation really is complicated and messy and the timing is just fucking awful. 

" _Melinda_." 

Coulson just has this way of saying her name that makes her heart _fucking ache._ May can't bring herself to look at him because he has the power to make her crumble and succumb to what they both so desperately want. Except they can't, so she has to be the one to say no. However much it hurts. She has to be the bad guy and in doing so, she hates both herself and him that little bit more because of it. 

They both know this thing between them has been burning brighter and more intense, and it has been for a rather long time even if they never officially acknowledged it. They both knew there would come a tipping point, something to tip the scales and yesterday's incident had been exactly the thing needed to unbalance the status quo. But it can't happen, not now. 

Because he has a job to do and so does she. 

Coulson can feel her slipping ever further away, the walls building back up to secure her heart from hurt. He's familiar with the procedure, having witnessed it before many times but now, it seems infinitely worse because it's a defence against _him_. Something of which he never thought he'd ever encounter but here there are. 

Standing ram rod straight, hands clenched into fists behind her back, she addresses him quietly, professionally. No more Melinda, this is Agent May. "You should get some sleep, Mr President." 

Shoulders slump in defeat and the ache in his chest throbs low and dull. Everything he wants to say, words to convince her that they can do this is lodged in his throat with no way of escape. She's shut him down because of the situation they find themselves in and all he wants is to throw caution to the wind and stay fuck it all but he can't. He also finds himself unable to walk away from this but for now, he will. Everything is still raw and too fresh still from the bombing yesterday, so for now he'll take a step back. 

Allow them both room to breath.

Maybe time to think will help, for them both. 

Reaching across the counter, he picks up his mug. "Thank you again for the tea," he says quietly, willing her to look at him but she doesn't and he cannot hide his disappointment. 

"Goodnight Sir." 

"Goodnight." 

As Coulson moves passed, he gently touches her side before moving on but she surprises him by catching his hand. Eyes lock and hold and for a moment he thinks she's changed her mind but then she squeezes his hand gently before releasing him. It's a moment which makes him pause but he decides against throwing caution to the wind. No. Time, he'll give them both time. So instead he makes himself walk away but before he leaves the kitchen, he pauses at the threshold to look back at her but her attention is lost in the depths of her tea.

She is every bit effected by this as he is. 

So with a sigh, he wanders away back through the house to his bedroom, his mind remembering the kiss they just shared. Over and over it plays. He can only hope his mind will continue to remain focused upon his moment with Melinda, instead of her sprawled bloody and prone upon the ground surrounded by blood and debris....

Whatever awaits him when he returns to bed, there is one thing he is sure about. The first move has been made and much like a game of chess, a move is never to be wasted. 

Now he has to patiently wait for her counter. 

.....................


	2. Risk Everything

The last three days since the bombing and the kiss, have crawled by at a snails pace. In the moments where she had to be by his side, it proved almost excruciating. There's a palpable tension now which exists between them, simmering on the surface with no hope of avoiding it with ignorance. It's there, constantly. It lives around them and it's noticeable, she's seen the looks from her agents and from his team. It would be so much easier if she could avoid circumstances where she had to be in his presence but it simply wasn't possible. By being head of his security detail, it's her job to keep him safe and the very best way to do that, is by his side. 

Which is exactly where she's been. 

During the day when they were outside it came with welcome advantages, she could shield her eyes behind sunglasses making it far easier to avoid eye contact, but she still couldn't miss the glances stolen in her direction more often than not. The sunglasses also came with the added benefit for her to steal her own glances, allowing her to watch him, taking in his tense and tired form as he goes about his day.

Being inside the house made things much more difficult, there were no sunglasses to hide behind or to steal glances, and more times than she'd like, his eyes had caught hold of hers all to easily. The sadness was hard to ignore as were the longing looks but there was also a sense of determination in those lovely hazel eyes that made her both curious and cautious. It filled her with unease, not being able to predict what comes next or his behaviour. There had only been two instances where they actually talked, once in his office where he inquired about her recovery and how she was, the second was where they stumbled upon one another in the hallway leading to the kitchen. He had been alone which wasn't a surprise, he had a very bad habit of wandering away and losing his detail. Coulson took the moment alone as opportunity to ask her to talk, regarding what happened in the kitchen in those early hours but she brushed him off, then brushed by him to continue on her way. 

It definitely hasn't been the easiest of weekends, for either of them. 

Now, night has overcome Camp David and the President's country retreat is shrouded in both darkness and quiet. Stars have appeared to fill the clear darkened sky above and although she's off the clock, May walks through the gardens checking her agents are stationed where they should be and that all is well. It's not necessary but it gives her piece of mind and a welcome opportunity to clear her thoughts. She hasn't sleep properly in the last few days barely getting a few restless hours in here and there, what with her body sore and aching from the bomb blast. Her mind hasn't helped much either, it's been a near constant war with thoughts ever raging, never once wavering as it throws memories to the forefront. There's no escape to be had, not even in sleep which refuses to come and when it does, it's restless and filled with him.

Once again, she's at a loss. 

Her walk through the grounds now leads her back to the main house but she doesn't go in, not immediately. Instead, May stands out front in the shadows, looking up at the beautiful night sky. The funny thing about this situation is the bombing isn't the issue. Many times before through her chosen career she has had to deal with situations such as that, caught in circumstances of life and death. Injuries were a job hazard she's grown accustomed to and that is perfect try acceptable. None of which is a problem for her. It's her job, she's trained for these very circumstances and she's happy in her chosen occupation.

No. It's the _other_ thing.

The moment in the kitchen.

It's plagued her mind over and over, remembering the expression on his face when he told her " _You scared me to death_ " to how it shifted right before he kissed her. Her hand unconsciously lifts to her lips where if she concentrates (which isn't hard) she swears she can still feel his mouth upon hers. It's easy to remember the feeling of him crowding her against the kitchen island, his weight and warmth, his hands at her hips. Despite the countless times over the years where her mind has wandered and thought what experiencing a moment like that with him would be like, the reality was nothing like she imagined. It was simply better. What wasn't taken into consideration in those moments of fantasy, was the feeling of hurt she would experience when she had to pull back and push him away. That had never been a part of her fantasies. 

Despite their feelings being decades old, they were stuck in a position where acting upon them is impossible. Not now. 

Because he's the President of the United States. 

But... to her he's just Phil Coulson. The man she's known for decades, through the academy then working as partners, to his campaign and now in office. He's her best friend and the man she loves. _Phil Coulson._ Through thick and thin, he's been by her side. 

It finally happened and then it was over and the worst part of the experience had been the look on his face when she pushed him away. Nothing compared to it. He was devastated before he concealed it and pushed on trying to convince her nothing else mattered. They've wasted enough time, why waste more?

Which leads to the questions which have plagued her constantly since. Are their jobs worth wasting more time? Is it worth not taking this next step? What has to happen before they do? What will it take? When will it be too late? 

Staring up into the night sky, she acknowledges the truth within her. 

She doesn't want to waste anymore time, she wants this with him. She has for a very long time. It's a truth she's held close and guarded behind a fortress of walls, but maybe now is the time to lower them and allow those feelings out. To embrace them. 

And that conclusion draws her inside the house. May knows these halls inside and out, having studied them for weaknesses and advantages, and before long, she's turning into the hallway leading to his bedroom. Bypassing the two agents station before the corner, she moves down the hall to the door where tonight Daisy stands guard alone. With a tilt of her head she dismisses her favorite agent to the opposite end of the hall. 

Daisy raises an eyebrow in surprise but doesn't question her superior as she turns to walk away like directed. 

Glancing both ways at the now deserted hall apart from Daisy at the end, May taps on the door softly before she slips inside without waiting for an answer. 

The room is partially dark, a lamp beside the bed casting low light across the bedroom. The curtains are drawn and the TV is off. The room is still but the man she's in search of stands across the room, beside the desk. When he turns to her in question, she knows she's made the right decision to come here. 

She questions herself on the strength it took to pull away and reject him. Not to mention the pain. Honestly, how did she manage such an action? It's beyond her to comprehend. 

"Melinda, is everything alright?" 

May doesn't offer him an answer, instead choosing actions over words because after all, they speak far louder. She closes the gap between them, stepping into his space where she capture his lips in a searing kiss. For three very excruciating, drawn out seconds he doesn’t reciprocate as he remains frozen but then his brain catches up to what's actually happening and he relaxes, opening his mouth to allow her tongue to sweep against his. His hands find her waist to pull her closer and all of a sudden, it's burning hot and bright between them. There's no need for conversation because this, her coming here, says all which is required. 

Coulson had made his move in the kitchen, now here May is making good her own. 

_Checkmate_. 

"Finally," he whispers against her mouth, before he captures her bottom lip between his own, suckling it and darting his tongue into her mouth. She melts into him all to quickly. 

It's surprisingly easy how they fall into the roles of lovers, awkwardness having no role to play. Hands wander and clothing is removed, abandoned to the floor around their feet. There's a moment of pause when he presses her against the wall halfway between the desk and the bed. Her gaze holds his as his hands explore, fingers tentative yet purposeful as they slip between her thighs. She kisses him then, whimpering into his mouth softly when gentle fingers slip through her folds, finding her wet and wanting. His mouth slides away to her shoulder and two fingers ease inside of her. If she didn't know any better she'd swear he's been doing this to her for years because he seems to know exactly how to touch her. 

"Phil," she murmurs breathless, her head tilting back with a dull thud against the wall. 

It's torturous and unyielding and so _fucking_ good and all to soon it's too much because her back arches as she comes, his name a harsh yet quiet cry upon her lips. She doesn't give herself a moment to recover as she pushes his hand away from her, while with the other she pulls on his hair beckoning him face to face. Just from the expression on her beautiful face, Coulson gets it and pulls them away from the wall. They fall sideways onto the bed and maneuver until he's resting above her. In all her years of being sexually active, she has never wanted anyone as much as she wants him in this moment. It's almost a burning need far greater than anything she's experienced inside of her, that only he can stoke.

Tentative fingers ghost over the injuries upon her face, mapping from the stitches above her eyebrow to the bruising which covers her cheek. 

The frown which appears across his handsome face, she wants no part of because it doesn't belong here. Not now, not ever. Her mouth against his, kisses it away.

There's a reckless air surrounding them. Need clouds rational thought. 

"Wait, do we need--" His query trails off as the head of his cock bumps her clit, causing her to gasp and a groan to escape his throat. 

"I'm not on any form of birth control," she manages to utter, her nails digging into his back. Dismay slowly seeps into her being at the thought of stopping. 

"I haven't-- I didn't think I'd need to pack condoms." 

This is just typical, the time arrives where they have finally taken the step to become lovers, only to be so under prepared in doing so.

But a simple fact remains, she doesn't want to stop, no matter the consequences. Never before has she done this but this, this is different. "Phil?" 

"Yeah." 

"I don't want to stop, not now, not now we're finally here together." 

The look in his eyes intensifies at the meaning behind her words as he stares down at her and her breath shudders.

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." 

"Thank God-- because I don't want to stop either." 

She leans up to kiss him, infusing as much certainty into the action. Consequences be damned. 

"What you do to me..." he mutters, half out of his head with desperate need for her. 

"Now, please." She tells him against his lips, begging him to fill her and so he does, _hard_. But still she demands, "harder" from him and he obliges gladly. He shifts himself slightly against her, hooks her right leg in his hand then slams into her with an almost brutal force that has her crying out. He keeps at it, holding the rythmn steady, fucking her long and slow. Her restrained reactions fill the room, echoing of the walls around them with no consequence of travelling further. His efforts are relentless and powering, he keeps giving and giving and giving and she takes it all gladly, losing herself both in the moment and in him, _Phil_. Every nerve ending feels like it's on _fucking_ fire and her body just wants more and more, demands more of _him_. It's as though she can't get enough, her body craves what he gives. Her nails dig into his back as he stares down at her, those beautiful hazel eyes of his normally so bright are now almost black. Pupils blown, filled with a raw need that's almost frightening in it's intensity but it's nothing but intoxicating to her. The feeling builds like a crescendo within her until it peaks almost harshly, she keens low and breathing ragged as she comes, blinding and electrifying in it's intensity and it pulls his own from him. Her name a rough groan lost in her neck as he slumps against her. 

For what feels like an age they stay connected bodies as one, holding each other close as they enjoy and take in the monumental change that has taken place between them. Because it is, monumental. There's no going back now, not after this. It's impossible and unthinkable. 

May turns her face into his neck, closing her eyes and runs her hands lightly up and down his sweat covered back as she enjoys the welcome weight of him in her arms. 

Coulson mumbles something intangible and pushes his head further into her shoulder where soft kisses are left upon her skin. Eventually he lifts himself up to peer down at her and with gentle hands, he frames her face. For a long time he simply stares at her, almost in wonder. 

"What made you change your mind?" 

It's easy to understand his reasonings for questioning her when she's remained nothing but steadfast in avoiding this situation and standing by what was said in the kitchen. But now that's she's realised how much time has passed and wasted, she wishes to waste no more. So the answer to his question is easily available. 

"Love," she replies simply, because that's exactly what it is. 

Her eyes soak in his beautiful smile, sated and happy and it makes her heart _fucking_ _ache_ with a joy she hasn't experienced in a very long time, if ever. 

His thumb brushes her lower lip, dipping in where her tongue flicks playfully against it. 

"Love," he repeats barely above a whisper. "To gain everything, you must first risk everything." 

The heavy weight of truth in his words linger between them but it's the reality they face. With their work comes a line, a line they've now crossed, in spectacular fashion with no going back, only forward. 

And as he drops his head to kiss her, slow and sweet, May has no qualms remaining, because he's right. 

To gain everything, you have to risk everything and she's more than okay with doing exactly that. 

.....................


	3. Stolen

"POTUS on the move." 

Hearing the words come through her comms, she detours quickly down a hallway in the opposite direction of where she had been intending to go in the first place. It seems the incident that had arisen which called for his immediate presence in the situation room, is now over, so she takes a chance and heads for his office. It's not only an opportunity stolen so she's able to see him but it's also an opportunity to discuss a work related matter, regarding the leather bound file currently in her hand to be specific. Two birds with one stone and all that jazz. 

As May makes her way through the West Wing, she nods in greeting to her agents situated throughout this vast historical building as she goes. On her way, she passes the Roosevelt and Cabinet rooms, the bull pen which is alive with energy as secretaries and aides go about their respective jobs. She passes the Press Secretary's office and the President's head Speech Writer sends her a wave from inside his own, a friendly nod is delivered in return. They're so young still, the bus kids, having been with the Coulson administration since the start of his campaign.

Entering the small foyer area outside the Oval office, she smiles in greeting to Grace, Phil's personal aide, who sits behind her desk typing away at the computer.

"Good afternoon, Agent May." The young woman greets with a bright yet shy smile, as she glances up. 

"Hello Grace." 

"I'm afraid President Coulson isn't available, he was called away to attend to an incident in the situation room." 

"I'll wait here, there's no rush." 

"Of course ma'am." 

May rolls her eyes, because if there's one thing she hates about this job it's being addressed as ma'am. "I've told you not to call me that," she says to the young woman, though not unkindly, reminding her for what seems like the thousandth time. 

Grace blushes, heat filling her otherwise pale cheeks. "Sorry ma'am, I mean Agent May. It's a habit." 

And it's a hard habit to break, she'll grant her that. 

"Would you like anything? Tea, coffee, water? While you wait?" 

May shakes her head. "No, but thank you." 

As Grace goes back to fulfilling whatever duties have been assigned to her, May takes a seat in one of the two chairs positioned outside the Oval office for waiting visitors. To occupy herself while she waits, she flicks through the folder to make sure everything is in order, which of course it is but still, she checks. She's halfway through reviewing the brief when male voices float in her direction to capture her attention. Looking to her left, Coulson walks towards her with his head buried in a file, the Chief of the Army and the Chairman of Joint Chiefs flank him with agents Morse, Davis and Daisy trailing behind. 

"I'm satisfied with the proposals gentlemen. Keep me updated." President Coulson looks up to hand off the file back to General Talbot, who's walking beside him. 

May sees the exact moment he spots her because his features shift slightly but it's his eyes, they positively light up upon realising her presence. A sight for sore eyes indeed and it's entirely mutual. 

"Of course Mr President." 

"Sir." 

Daisy, Bobbi and Davis step aside to allow the high ranking men by before stepping up behind the President when he moves towards his office. 

May stands up when he approaches. "Mr President," she greets quietly. 

"Agent May, I take it you would like a moment to discuss the upcoming trip to London?" 

"Yes, if you have a moment Sir." 

"Of course." He smiles, then turns to his personal aide. "Grace, any messages?"

"Senator Adams called twice and requested another meeting regarding the bill he wants put through for a vote, with your support of course."

Coulson raises an eyebrow at that. "I hope you told him I was busy." 

"I did, Sir. I informed him it was highly likely you were too be busy for the foreseeable future." 

Coulson smirks. "I can only imagine his reaction." 

"He shouted a lot Sir, demanding an appointment, so I hung up."

May struggles to hide her smile, secretly impressed by the young girl's ballsy actions. 

"A job very well done, Grace." 

"Thank you Mr President." 

Coulson glances quickly to May beside him. "No interruptions please while I meet with Agent May, unless it's world ending of course." 

"Yes Sir." 

A wary look crosses his handsome features. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that, we wouldn't want to jinx it." 

Grace laughs softly. "No, Sir." 

"Knock on some wood for me, Grace. Get us some good luck." 

The sound of a double wrap against the solid wood of her desk makes him smile. 

Coulson opens the door and gestures for her to proceed him into the office as the three agents who had been following his every move, position themselves on either side. As he follows her in, he just catches the wink Daisy sends his way before the door closes. 

May stands before his desk, watching as he walks towards her. When he's close enough she hands over the leather folder. 

Coulson takes it from her and rounds his desk to drop down heavily into his chair. "For the trip to London?" 

"Yes." She rounds the grand desk to point out details when he opens it. Her finger slowly runs down the page as she speaks, pointing out each aspect of the timetable. "You'll depart the White house at 1300 hours, across the south lawn to Marine One whom will take you to Andrews' where Air Force One will be waiting. Arrival time is approximately 0200 BST. We have coordinated all further security requirements with Scotland Yard and MI5. Agents Mack and Johnson will lead your detail..." When he sighs heavily, she stops. 

Coulson looks up in apology at her. "I'm sorry, it's been a long few days." 

Leaning back against his desk beside him, she looks down at him in concern. He looks worn out, dark bags under his eyes. "Have you slept?" 

"Some," he admits quietly, rolling his chair closer so he's able to lean forward to rest his forehead against her stomach. "It would help if Iran played ball."

The events which occurred at Camp David are still fresh. This new-found intimacy between them is all relatively new and exciting, and because it comes few and far between, every moment stolen however small is something to hold close and cherish. 

Her right hand moves to his head, where gentle fingers sooth through his short hair. "No closer to striking a deal?" 

He shakes his head against her. "No. They won't agree to the sanctions we proposed which makes us believe they won't honor the deal if they were to sign. M-Sec is working on it."

"What about the incident in the situation room?" 

"Three aide workers, two American and one French national, have been taken hostage in Libya by rebels. We are coordinating a response with the CIA, who are working the situation on the ground to locate them." 

"Have there been any demands made?" 

"Not yet. We want to get ahead of it. CIA agents on ground are familiar with the rebels in question. They have Intel on the possible location where the workers are being held." 

"When will we know?" 

"They're going in, in two hours." He says, then asks, "is there anything else I need to know about London? Anything important?"

"No, nothing that isn't in the file." May tells him quietly, enjoying the feel of him wrapped around her. "Though I'd take an umbrella, it's probably raining." 

Coulson huffs a soft laugh. "You're probably right."

They fall silent, comfortable and content as they enjoy this stolen moment in the middle of a busy afternoon. 

Slowly she drags her nails down his nape and she smiles when he leans back into the contact and groans. 

"You smell nice," he mutters against her, his hands on her hips pulling her so she's between his legs. His head shifts then and his lips press a kiss against her ribcage, the heat of his lips seeming to burn even through the material of her shirt. 

Her eyes flutter at the contact as he does it again and again. Coulson then shifts his head back enough so he's able to pull the shirt free from her waistband to lift it, so his lips can access bare, soft skin. His open mouth kisses brush over her, his tongue dipping playfully into her belly button and she wishes they were anywhere but in the Oval right now. Despite the location, she can't help herself. Reaching down, she tugs him up from the chair. He goes willingly. They're so close allowing eyes to connect and hold, and he crowds her harder against his desk. 

"I've missed you," he says quietly, earnestly. 

And the feeling is entirely mutual. There hasn't been much opportunity for moments alone because he's been busy and the only time they've seen one another is in passing or when she's been by his side during engagements. This is the first proper moment alone in days, almost a week to be exact and she's missed him too. Greatly.

"And I'll miss you even more when I'm in London." 

Again, if the feeling wasn't entirely mutual, she would laugh at the petulant undertone to his words. 

"I wish you were coming with me." 

Instead of offering words in reply, she chooses to kiss him. To begin the kiss is sweet and gentle, exactly how she intended it to be. Using it as a reassurance that she's there for him whenever and wherever, but then she almostly absently scrapes her teeth along his lower lip and it suddenly ignites a fire within him. His hands find the back of her thighs to lift her onto his desk. He steps into her then, pressing closer as he trails his lips across her jaw, nipping at her ear lobe before shifting to her neck where his tongue sweeps over her pulse point. Her fingers curl into his hair to drag his mouth back to hers and she wraps her legs around his waist keeping him in place. The groan which escapes his throat sounds particularly loud in the quiet of the Oval. The fire continues to grow and things quickly escalate. Coulson pushes her jacket down her arms, throwing it aside. Her hands move to his waist, to find his belt where with quick nimble fingers, the buckle is undone and then the zipper follows soon after. His tongue is in her mouth and her hand is inside his pants, curling around him where he's half hard as he's eases her down across his desk, not caring about the classified papers needing his signature beneath her. None of it matters, only this. 

Then suddenly the phone rings and the moment shatters to smithereens around them. 

They tear apart with a shared groan of frustration and both look to the offending object which continues to ring upon the corner of his desk. May blinks up at him, slowly removing her hand when without moving from his position above her, Coulson reaches out to answer the call. Grace's voice suddenly fills the room. 

"I'm so sorry to interrupt Mr President but I have the Secretary of State calling for you. She says it's important, regarding the nuclear peace deal with Iran. There's been developments." 

May closes her eyes, feeling a clash of both exasperation and frustration at the interruption.

Coulson sighs, dropping his forehead to the shoulder of the woman beneath him in defeat. "Hold the call please Grace, I'm just finishing up with Agent May." 

"Of course, Sir. Oh! and those NSA files you requested have been sent over. Jemma Simmons also needs a moment when you have the time, to go over some things regarding the trip to London." 

"All right. I'll see Simmons after I speak with M-Sec."

"Wonderful. Thank you Sir."

"Thank you Grace," he replies kindly to his assistant before reaching over to end the call. With a sigh, he looks down in apology to the beautiful woman beneath him before pushing himself up off her. "I'm sorry." His hands drop to his pants, quickly righting himself so he's nothing but impeccably attired.

"It's fine Phil," she says with a soft smile as she sits up. Gentle fingers smooth down his lapels then straighten his navy tie. "If I don't get the chance before you leave, have a good trip and try to get some rest." 

"At least this state visit won't be fraught with hard work. Our relationship with the UK is the best it's ever been, which hopefully means I can catch up on some much needed sleep instead of building bridges between nations." 

He really does look tired and a schedule of engagements across the pond probably isn't the most ideal situation in terms of offering relaxation but it's better than nothing, and as he said, not fraught with tensions which is always an advantage. 

May cups his face before leaning in to kiss him, slowly, making it last that little bit longer because this will be the last for a little while. "I'll see you when you get back." 

Coulson adopts a mournful expression. "I really wish you were coming with me but I understand your dad needs you."

Normally, May would be by his side for any scheduled trips or engagements but she's taking a few petsonal days off to go visit her dad who's just had a hip replacement. She wants to get him settled in and make sure everything is up and running with the help she's arranged for him. He's a stubborn old fool, so being hands on is the only option to make sure it gets done. Up until this morning, she had been looking forward to it, to seeing him. Now not so much. 

"Turns out my mother is stopping by."

Coulson's eyes widen. "That... sounds like fun." When in reality, it's the exact opposite. He picks up her discarded jacket and opens it to her. 

May rolls her eyes as she slides off the desk. "It will be absolute torture." Turning around, she slips her arms into the jacket then makes her way across the room to the door, tucking in her shirt as she goes. She pauses just before departing to turn back to Phil, who's followed behind her. "Stay safe okay?" 

"I will, I promise. I'm in good hands." Coulson pauses, remembering something from earlier. "As we talk of safe hands, I think Daisy's onto us." 

Incredulous eyes stare back at him. "You think? She was on duty that night at Camp David, Phil. She saw me arrive and leave the next morning, as did Mack and Bobbi." 

"Oh." 

"I've talked to them and I trust them. If I didn't, they wouldn't be here." 

Phil nods. He kisses her softly once more knowing she has to go. "Have fun in Arizona." 

"Have fun charming Queen and country."

"Please, that won't be an issue." He smirks self confidently. "I charmed you didn't I?" 

"And it only took three decades." She laughs quietly when his face falls. She steals another quick kiss again, which lingers into something far longer. He presses her back against the door, his hands in her hair and her fingers curl into jacket, anchoring him to her. It's rougher and far more desperate than intended, both taking what they need from the other to survive the time apart. It's futile because it will never be enough to last. God, how they both wish she was going with him. 

Eventually the kiss breaks and he steps away from her almost painfully, on one hand hating to break the connection between them and the other, because she's riled him up and he's now rock hard. 

May brushes a hand down his tie and leans forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek in goodbye. "I'll see you when you get back." 

"I'll call you, pass on my well wishes to your father." 

His soft smile follows her out of his office and she refuses to acknowledge the knowing glances from her two agents, while Davis continues to remain oblivious. 

Hopefully when Coulson returns from his state visit to the UK, they can find some time together. Stolen moments are proving not enough.

She desperately needs more. 

....... ....... .......


	4. Finding Time

Finishing the end of the sentence, she turns the page to start the next chapter. 

Sometimes May wonders why she wastes her time reading these crime novels, especially when the majority of the time is spent rolling her eyes at the unlikely and unbelievable plotline, and that's not forgetting the romantic element. In this book, the lead character's sexual escapades are conducted with a woman who may possibly be the suspect he's been investigating, how very predictable. It's not the best book she's ever read but its certainly far from the worst, and it serves its purpose as a nice distraction as she winds down after a busy week at work. 

The President's schedule had been full, with engagements throughout DC and a short trip to Massachusetts. 

None of which is what bothered her of course, a busy work week is the norm and it would seem suspicious if it were anything but. What bothers her is there hadn't really been a moment just for them, alone. Normally, they would sneak away in his office or down a deserted hallway guarded only by her selected agents. This week however, stealing a moment alone hadn't been possible what with his staff hovering around constantly putting the finishing touches for his appearance at Harvard Law. And of course there's the rising tensions with Russia to take into consideration as well. Phil's spent a majority of his time in the situation room, as Russia flouts the rules by sending jets and bombers into restricted waters for 'reconnaissance'. The last straw had been when Russia flew a fully armed jet over a US destroyer before being intercepted and escorted away. Tensions were high to say the least. 

So no, this week hadn't provided any opportunity for a moment alone with the man she loves. All there had been was a ghosting touch at the small of her back and a brush of his hand against hers. That's it. Nothing more. A fact which has left her beyond frustrated but it's the reality they face with their work. She understood the perimeters going in and she accepts them for what they are, but it doesn't make it any easier or less frustrating to endure. 

Turning a page once more, she takes a sip of her wine and sinks further into the plush couch. The sound of the fire crackling serves as a soothing backdrop along with the rain pelting against the windows and she allows herself to submerge more fully into the storyline. May's halfway through the page when her cellphone lights up, vibrating furiously on the coffee table. Reaching over, a soft smile slips onto her face when she sees Phil's name and face appear across the screen. 

Now this is a welcome surprise. 

"Mr President," she greets quietly, tucking the phone against her shoulder while hooking her finger over the page to mark her spot. 

"Agent May," he replies smoothly and she can easily imagine the smile on his handsome face. "I didn't wake you, did I?" 

"No, you didn't." She rushes to reassure, a glance at the clock shows it's after eleven. "I was just reading a new book."

"Anything interesting?" 

"Not particularly." 

"Good," he pauses, "so you're not busy." 

May's brows furrow. "Do you need me for something?"

"Oh I need you, never doubt that." His voice has dropped, low and rough.

And it really shouldn't have as much as an effect as it does on her, because my God, it does. This man hold entirely to much power over her. Mind, body and soul. 

"I've missed you this week," she admits quietly, even though they've seen each other every day, but it's not the same. 

"I'm glad to hear that, considering I'm outside." 

"What?" Her book is forgotten as it slides from her lap to the floor when she gets up suddenly. Moving across the room she stops in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the street below and the Capital beyond. Down below parked across the street is a rather slimmed down version of the President's motorcade, three black SUVs. "What are you doing here?" 

"I missed you too, so you know-- I thought I'd drop by." 

May smirks leaning against the rain chilled glass, her eyes on the cars parked down below. "Mr President, is this a booty call?" 

"Of course not," Coulson splutters indignant down the phone. He pauses, then, "Well, maybe.... I mean-- would you be acceptable of such an advance?" 

She laughs quietly. "Come up and find out." She hangs up before he can answer and she watches as all the doors open almost in perfect synchronisation and there he is, stepping out as umbrellas deploy to cover him from the rain. For one brief moment that follows, May looks down at what she's wearing in a rare moment of self consciousness, taking in the yoga pants and the loose knit sweater before dismissing it as ridiculous. They've known each other for three decades and they've seen each other in worse states. 

Satisfied in her appearance and relishing in the surprise of his visit, she moves from the windows, stopping at the breakfast bar to set aside her wine glass then makes her way across the room toward the front door. Opening it, she leans against the frame for only a few moments before the elevator opens and Phil steps out, surrounded by seven agents. When they draw near, she steps aside and Mack averts his gaze from hers. 

To say he's uncomfortable would be a vast understatement, not because he's here on the President's orders but by what he has to do next. "Sorry Agent May, protocol." 

With a wave of her hand, May welcomes one of her senior agents into her home to check through, room by room for any hostile threat. It pleases her to know even though she's his boss and head of the Secret Service detail, that her agents still follow procedure even when it comes to her own home. 

Her eyes find Coulson's as they wait, there's heat lingering in those deep brown eyes and the check through seems to take forever but really, it's just an impatient inconvenience of mere seconds. 

"Clear." Mack announces after sweeping through the place. "All is good Sir." He says leaving the apartment. 

"Thank you Agent Mackenzie." 

Mack settles beside the door as the other agents disperse throughout the hall beyond her door.

She can only imagine what her neighbours will think, especially with the knowledge there's more agents spread throughout and outside the building. But for once, she's unconcerned because it means he's here. 

_He's here._

May stands back to allow Coulson in. As soon as the door closes firmly behind him, there's a brief pause before the clash comes. The thud of her body against the door as he presses her back is unmistakable but neither care. If the detail hasn't cottoned on to what's happening between them before, they certainly will now, and honestly she expects more from her agents. They're too good not to realise, especially after Camp David. But there isn't one inch of her being that cares. Not one. 

He kisses her with a desperation that's almost frightening. There's a sense of urgency which hasn't existed before in their encounters, not even during interludes in the Oval where time is scarce, but it isn't a sense of urgency regarding time now either but rather a need to be close. Even though it hadn't been that long since the last time, it feels like a lifetime ago and it motivates them to move. They stumbled through her apartment, clothes abandoned behind them like breadcrumbs leading from the front door to bedroom. It almost comes as a relief to both of them when he has her under him upon the bed. Though it seems now they've reached the sanctuary of her bedroom, of her bed, the urgency that propelled them there has slowly ebbed away as they allow things to slow down. 

Phil kisses her tenderly, lazily and with a patience that seems deliberate and it's infuriatingly intoxicating. The sigh of pleasure against his lips cannot be contained when he finally deepens the kiss, easing her mouth open with his tongue as he adjusts the hand buried in her hair. 

A hand smoothes against the soft skin of his back, warm against her palm before it slides back up to his nape, nails scraping along the way. She could spend an age just kissing him like this but even so, disappointment doesn't come when eventually his mouth slides away, over her jaw and down her neck. He wanders his way lower, dragging his tongue across her collarbone and down the valley of her breasts. His left hand continues its explorations of her skin, charting the almost never ending expanse as his mouth closes around her right nipple. Her back arches into the contact and she groans, letting go of him to twist her fingers into the sheets beneath her. He teases the other nipple with his left hand having paused his explorations for now to shower attention upon her beautiful breasts. He pinches the bud just hard enough to draw pleasure from pain, matching it to the other with a playful bite. Tomorrow, when getting ready for another long day, she'll find deep purple bruises upon her skin from where his lips loving marked her his own. 

But for now his attention falters and once more wanders away moving lower, his tongue circles her belly button before playfully dipping inside. His right hand slips further south until his fingers find her, wet and wanting. He kisses her stomach delicately, then her hip bone, then slips two fingers inside of her. 

"Phil." May looks down to find him watching her and however much she wants to hold the connection she can't, her eyes fluttering closed almost against her will.

His beautiful eyes are bright, wide and filled with awe as he watches her carefully, watching her react as his fingers slide in and out of her slowly, curling just right to find the spot that has her hips lifting against his hand, chasing contact.

"Phil-- please." Reaching down, she tugs at his arm but he resists, shaking his head. His fingers remain are persistent as they fuck her slowly. 

"Not yet," he tells her roughly, with a mischievous smile. He then moves himself lower, removes his fingers only to replace them with his mouth. 

" _Fuck_..." 

Coulson smiles against her, sliding his tongue through her folds. He's discovered since they started their relationship, going down on her has become a favourite occupation of his, so much so he could happily spend hours with his head buried between her thighs pushing her over the edge again and again. 

But for tonight he keeps things short because he needs to be inside of her. _Desperately_. 

May's hand alternates between grasping the sheets and curling into his short hair, pressing her hips upward into his mouth until she gasping his name as her climax sky rockets. Allowing only a moments pause to gather herself, she demands of him, "now, please Phil."

Countless times since this started, the thought of protection has been recklessly forgotten, tonight however responsibility creeps to the forefront of his mind. He reaches over to the nightstand to retrieve the small foil package. Quick fingers make quick work of it and then he's there, ready. 

"Phil, please..." 

Now he gives in to her, moving up to bring them face to face and in one long, slow motion he pushes inside of her. Her cry sounds but it gets lost in his mouth. 

" _Melinda_." 

The way he says her name when he fills her, fills her heart with a warmth that's entirely different to the fire racing through her veins. Love and lust merging as one. 

May curls her leg over his hip as the other runs up the back of his leg. He's going slow and steady, fucking her long and deep. His only task is to draw this out. Unlike the rush from the front door to the bedroom, this isn't a race but my God, is he driving her crazy, stoking the fire burning within her so it flares hotter and brighter everytime. This, what he's giving her over and over is exactly what she's been missing all week and she can see it's the same for him, this all consuming connection which crackles electric between them almost. He takes her hands in his over her head, holding them there against the twisted sheets beneath them and she arches up meet his next thrust over and over. "Harder," comes her demands and he obliges. His cock drives into her harder, hitting that spot within and her cries fill her bedroom, her home affording them the ability to just let go and let themselves be heard. There's no need for restraint so they don't offer any, not with the sounds that escape their throats or with their movements which begin to drive faster and harder towards the release they crave so desperately. His efforts are relentless and powering and it sends her spiralling into an orgasm so intensely powerful it almost blacks out her entire world. Her release rips forward his own and Phil drops his head to her shoulder, his fingers tightening around hers almost as if to anchor himself in the moment as he comes hard into her. 

They stay breathless and entwined for a short while after, just holding one another. Eventually he shifts from upon her despite her protests and he moves to collapse beside her, making quick work of removing the condom before dragging a pillow towards him which he promptly face plants into. "Best booty call ever." 

May scowls and playfully punches his arm. 

Coulson laughs softly as he catches her hand before releasing it, where instead he wraps his arm around her to drag her closer. His head shifts so they can share the pillow. 

They stare at each other in the dim light, limbs heavy and hearts slowing to a more relaxed beat. Exhaustion slowly starts to settle in almost to their very bones.

His hand moves between them, where fingers delicately trace along her jawline before his lips follow. 

"Can I stay?" He whispers his question into the miniscule space between them. 

It surprises her on two counts; one, because he isn't returning to the White House and two, that he feels he even needs to ask. Barely shifting upon the pillow, she presses her mouth to his. "You can always stay, you never have to ask Phil." She tells him quietly, her words infused with as much feeling as she can impart.

"I've thought of nothing else all day, being like this with you." 

She smiles against his mouth. "I'm always here, I'm not going anywhere." 

"Good," he says quietly before admitting, "I missed you." 

"I missed you too."

Coulson pulls her closer. "I need to find more time for this, I'm sorry I've been so--"

She shakes her head upon the pillow. "No. Don't apologise for doing your job and don't worry about finding time." They can only have moments like this schedule permitted, there's no other option available but to carry on as they are, stealing time together when and where they can. 

"I just want more with you." 

Her heart aches with the strength of love for this man and his sleepy confession. "I know, me too." 

Again he kisses her, just because he can. 

May pulls back, brushing get her fingers through his hair. Hoping the action soothes the impossibly tired man. "Go to sleep, Phil." 

And so, in the dim light of her bedroom, she watches the man this country knows as their President slowly succumb to much needed sleep, but while they may see the side which shows a powerful, fearless leader who fights for not only a better country but also for a better world... they'll never see this intimate side where what makes President Coulson, _Phil_. 

No. That's hers and May will do whatever it takes to protect it. 

No matter the cost.

....... ....... .......


	5. Best Medicine

Pain, almost crippling, sears through his head. With an ever growing work load which refuses to slow but is standard practice and comes with running a country as great as the United States of America and managing the crisis after crisis to rage upon their shores, he'd ignored the impending warning signs. Which simply means, now, he's paying for it. Ten fold. 

Truth be told it's been a very long time since he last experienced the pain that comes from a very bad migraine, especially one as bad as this is, maybe a year or so since he last suffered the experience. Mounting stress and a noticeable lack of sleep is the reason for now breaking the dry spell. Being few and far between, he's forgotten just how fucking painful these things can be. It hurts, like a lot. And the current situation really isn't helping matters either, all bright lights focused upon him, cameras flashing and reporters voices fighting and growing louder and louder to be heard by the second. His hands clench around the edges of the podium so hard his knuckles turn white and he grits his teeth as he stumbles through the press briefing. How he's still standing, as nausea rolls through him, he'll never know. The pain just needs to stop but for that to happen, he needs to finish up here with the world's media before he can escape to the solitude of quiet darkness. 

Better yet, what he wouldn't give to be wrapped up in bed buried beneath warm sheets with an equally warm Melinda May. That sounds deliciously delightful but alas, it's a scenario which isn't a possibility and will have to remain a fantasy to see him through not only this meeting but this day. 

Back on task to matters at hand, looking out into the sea of familiar faces, Coulson points to a woman in the second row, a CNN lanyard around her neck. 

"Yes, Julia?" 

"Sir, as you mentioned in your speech you have pledged a great deal of aid, to help the relief efforts on the ground but will you, yourself, be visiting the state and the effected areas along with its residents?"

Coulson takes a breath, fighting against the growing urge to vomit. "Absolutely. As I stated, the aid will be on the ground as soon as we can make it happen within the next twelve to twenty-four hours or sooner if possible. As for a visit, the answer is yes. In the coming days, both myself and Madam Secretary Hill will visit the state of Florida, we will visit the most effected areas and meet with the people who call it home, to offer any guidance and reassurance that we will do everything we can possible to rebuild and fortify flood defences. We will do everything we can to help in the aftermath of Storm Luca."

As soon as he finishes his answer to Julia's question, they start in again, hounding him with question after question after question and on any other day it would be fine, he'd stand there to answer every single one but not today. Because it finally reaches the peak where it all begins to blur into one and he's not sure if the room is actually spinning or if its just inside his head. But enough is enough. He can no longer withstand the pain and bright lights. He needs quiet and darkness. 

"Thank you, I'll take no further questions." 

The lights are almost blinding and he can't hide the grimace as he steps away from the podium to leave. The clamouring continues with cries of _Sir?! Mr President?!_ thrown at his back as he aburptly steps out into the hall with Agent Morse closing the door to the press briefing room behind him. Jemma stands by his side, her concern clear as he takes a deep breath against the waves of nausea still rushing through him. 

"Sir, are you alright?" His Press Secretary asks kindly, taking the leather folder from him when he offers it. 

"I'm fine, thank you Jemma." He smiles in what he hopes to be reassurance but it falls flat of the mark as he motions his hand down the hall. "Shall we?" 

"Of course Sir." The young woman moves to his side as they make the walk back to the Oval office, behind them seven Secret Service agents follow. 

Coulson notices the side glances his way in concern and he anticipates further inquiry so he diverts attention away from himself. "What is the exact time frame for further aid and manpower to arrive in Florida?" 

"Madam Secretary Hill informs us it will be on the ground in six hours, well ahead of schedule Sir. The State department is working to get things done as soon as possible. Fema and the Red Cross are already there as you know, as is the National Guard." 

"Good. Whatever they need, give it to them." 

"Of course, I'll let the State department know." 

Coulson raises a hand to rub at his forehead, nausea still present and his neck is beginning to hurt. He really needs to lie down. 

There's so much to do and of course, the upcoming trip to Florida still needs to be set up with no much notice. 

"Sir, are you sure you're okay? You look a little pale." 

With reassurance a failure, he settles for the truth. "I'm fine, just a headache I can't shake."

They turn another corner and Jemma's office comes into view and soon enough they're closing on it. 

"Thank you Jemma," he says softly. 

She nods, accepting her dismissal. For now her work is done, until later. "You're welcome Sir. I hope you feel better soon." She smiles then ducks into her office as they pass. 

Coulson, trailed by his detail walks a little way further, around another corner until they're entering the outer office of the Oval. He barely manages to flash Grace a tired smile, pain shooting sharply and constantly through his head. "Anything important come up while I was away?" 

"No Sir," she says standing from her chair to which he quickly waves her back down. "General Talbot stopped by, he said he'll come back later." 

"Oh joy." He mutters, just the thought of having to deal with Talbot makes his current ailment that much worse. "Actually, can you reshuffle my engagements for this afternoon? And if General Talbot returns, I'm unavailable until tomorrow." 

"Not a problem, Mr President." 

"Thank you. No disturbances Grace, unless something comes up of great importance of course." 

"Madam Secretary Hill queried the details for the trip to Florida, Miss Rodriguez is dealing with it." 

"Good." 

Grace nods and for a few long seconds, her shy yet curious green eyes scrutinise her boss carefully. Something's off. "Are you alright Sir?" 

Again, the same question twice in the space of mere minutes and he has to wonder just how truly awful he must look for people to keep asking. "I'm fine, I just have a migraine." 

"Oh, should I call for the White House physician?" Even before she's finished, she's reaching for the phone. 

He waves her away. "That won't be necessary. I just need to lie down in a dark room for a little while." 

"If you're sure?" 

"I am. Don't look so worried Grace, I'm made of stern stuff." 

Grace nods but still looks unsure as she cradles the phone against her chest. She hopes he's right, the last thing she wants or needs is a dead President on her watch. God, that would just make for an awful addition to her résumé. 

Coulson nods in reply and turns to his office. The agents who followed him from the briefing are now poised throughout the outer office. Agents Morse and Johnson either side of his door. When he steps between them and inside the office closing the door quietly behind him, the quiet that greets him is a welcome relief. Standing there for a moment, he leans his head back against the wood and takes in a few deeps breaths then pauses.

He's tired, aching and in pain. The last few days have been busy in amongst a busy few weeks. No reprieve to be had. Everything seems never ending and it's both mentally and physically exhausting. But there's one thing that can make it better and brighter. 

Pushing off and turning around he wrenches the door back open. 

"Daisy?" 

The young woman jerks around to look at him. "Sir?" 

"Is Agent May back yet?" 

A small smile slides across her face. "She's finished her meeting with Director Fury, she's on her way back now to relieve Bobbi, Sir." 

His relief must be evident if the smile on Daisy's face is anything to go by. But he finds himself unconcerned. "Can you send her in when she arrives please?" 

"Yes Mr President." 

"Thank you." 

Closing the door, he then flips off all the lights shrouding the Oval office in darkness. Moments later he drops down onto one of the two off white couches, lying back against the pillows. A forearm covers his eyes and he once more takes in deep, calm breaths. In and out, in and out. 

The last few days have been horrendous, Florida having been hit hard by a category five hurricane. The damage was unprecedented. Then there's the problems escalating further in Libya demanding his attention. M-Sec is warring with the Chinese Foreign minister regarding a territory dispute that's threatening an oil deal. Then there's the G7 summit which is upcoming so preparations are in full motion regarding the trip abroad to France to attend. It's been exhausting and stressful which isn't exactly out of the norm but whatever the difference, he's certainly paying the price now. Because his head feels like it's spitting in two. 

All he needs right now is some pain meds, May and some sleep. Not necessarily in that order. 

The room has started to spin again, so he stays put until it passes. 

How much time actually passes is something he would be unable to offer an answer to, an hour maybe? It's unimportant, especially when there's a quiet knock followed by the door opening. He's groggy, floating in the expanse that exits between unconscious and consciousness, he turns his head in her general direction. 

"Phil?" 

Relief floods him at the sound of her voice. "Over here." Seconds later the couch dips at his side and her gentle, caring fingers sooth across his forehead smoothing out any and all creases created by his furrowed brow. 

May looks down at him, taking in his exhausted state sprawled upon the couch. He looks awful. "Migraine?" She asks even though she already suspects the answer. 

"Hmm." 

"Have you taken anything?" 

He shakes his head and instantly regrets it, even doing something as simple as that hurts and triggers further dizzy spells. "No-- no, I meant to but I sat down and never got back up. There's some Tylenol in the bottom drawer though, if you don't mind grabbing it." 

He feels her disappear from his side and he listens as she rummages through his drawers, the office door reopens then closes quickly after a murmured conversation between her and Daisy. It's moments later when she's back beside him, nudging him upright. She passes him two Tylenol and a water bottle. A wastebasket is placed on the floor close by, as a precaution incase he decides to vomit. He swallows down the pills easily then sits by as she strips him of his jacket and tie. Her hands then slip off first one shoe then the other before she sits at the end of the couch and pulls him down, so his head rests in her lap. A cold compress is then pressed to his forehead and he sighs, feeling his body relax instantly now that she's here. 

"Bad day?" 

"Hmm. The camera flashes at the press briefing didn't help any." 

"How's the situation in Libya?" 

"Being handled by CIA on the ground." 

"And Florida?" 

"Further aid will touch down in six hours." 

"Security plans for the trip have been finalised and confirmed. When you're up to it, we'll go over it." 

"That's fine," he murmurs quietly against her leg. 

"Has Grace cleared your schedule?" 

"Yeah." 

"Good," she says in satisfaction, pleased he can now take the time to fight this off. "To bad you haven't got a do not disturb sign for the door." 

"That's what Daisy and Grace are for. No one will get by those two. I was lucky Grace didn't call the doctor..." he trails off, growing quiet. 

Her fingers are welcome as they once again run through his hair before they massage gently into his scalp. The moan he cannot be contained and it escapes effortlessly. A press of her lips follow against his crown. 

"You need to take better care of yourself." 

"I know but I've been so busy." 

"Running yourself into the ground won't be of use to anyone." 

"Fair point, you're right."

"I'm always right," she whispers back. 

He huffs but doesn't contradict her. 

"I have something for you." 

"What?" 

Even in pain, his curiosity still thrives. 

Reaching into her pocket, she dangles the key chain before his eyes. 

He takes the key, which has Captain America's shield attached to it. "What's this?" 

"A key to my apartment. So you can come and go whenever you're able."

He's quiet for a moment and she starts to worry she made a mistake, but the press of his lips against her thigh settles any rising anxiety. 

"That's a big step, you know." 

"Is it?" She asks, playing dumb. 

"Hmm," he hums softly. "I'm afraid I can't reciprocate though, they don't just hand out keys to the White House to just _anyone_." 

"Shut up." 

Coulson smiles against her leg, fingers curling around the key. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." She smiles fondly down at him, even though he can't see it. "Now go to sleep." 

Coulson smiles tiredly at her soft order and wraps his arm around her leg, almost hugging it as a child would a security blanket. "Thank you for coming."

"I'm always here to defend your ass." 

"I can defend myself well enough, thank you very much," he says, trying to sound quietly outraged. Then changes tactics. "Besides you like my ass." 

May snorts in amusement, not bothering to deny or offer any argument. "It's damn fine, Mr President." 

He grins against her leg, secretly pleased. His grin soon dies at the pain searing through his skull. _Fuck_. His head feels like it's within a vice. 

"I'll always be here, for whatever you need," she informs him softly, fingers moving across his forehead, mapping the crinkles as his face twists in pain. "Sleep Phil." 

Coulson does as he's told and falls asleep sprawled half in her lap. This is exactly what he needed; darkness, quiet and her. 

Turns out, she's the very best medicine. 

....... ....... .......


	6. Mile High

It's only been a grand total of three hours since they became airborne, leaving behind the warm and welcoming streets of Spain's capital, Madrid. 

As soon as President Coulson stepped foot aboard Air Force One for the return flight back to DC and the White House, everyone held themselves that little bit straighter, all attention focused upon showing respect to the most powerful leader in the free world. 

Even now, hours into the flight home and despite a gentle order issued for his staff to relax, his presence remains to have an impact. The power he holds doesn't just come solely from his position as the President of the United States-- no, his mere presence demands the full attention of anyone in his general vicinity simple for being Phil Coulson. Whenever and wherever he enters, albeit a room, corridor or bathroom, he owns it and everybody's attention. 

Which for Melinda May, who gets a front row seat to everything that occurs from her position as head of his security detail, is more than a little amused at the display. It's funny to her because she's known this guy for three decades since they met at the academy, where he became her best friend then and now years later as her lover, and nothing has changed in between, he's still the biggest dork possible and she loves him all the more for it. Yet he commands attention without realising half the time and in his own way, he's pretty bad ass which in turn is very sexy. 

Though she hasn't and will never tell him that, any of it. No. It would only go to straight his head. His ego is big enough as is. 

And now May, standing in the doorway cradling a cup of tea, watches him move down the narrow hall back towards his office aboard Air Force One with Elena by his side. His head is turned down looking over the file they're clearly discussing, so he misses how the few staff he passes rise in respect. It seems despite his order, his staff continue to show the respect they feel is necessary to the man they work for. 

May smiles at that. 

As POTUS and his Chief of Staff draw even closer, May can hear her muttering rapidly in her native tongue. She picks up the odd word and hides her smirk behind her mug. 

"I _can_ understand what you're saying, you know." 

Elena raises an eyebrow, almost in challenge, hands resting on her hips. 

Coulson relents all to quickly. "Most of it anyway," he amends sullenly. "Any updates on France giving the go ahead?"

"No, but Maria is still working on it. She said she'll update you as soon as any progress is made." 

"Alright." 

"She mentioned travelling to Paris to speak directly with President Clèment, if the Foreign Secretary doesn't agree."

"Good," he closes the file and hands it back to her. "Get some sleep, Elena. I fear tomorrow will be a very long day." 

"Copy that, boss." She remarks, then bids everyone goodnight before disppearing out of view. 

What tomorrow will bring is anyones guess but it would be made all the more easier is France cooperated with its NATO allies. 

Coulson nods at Daisy who's slouched in her seat, casually flicking through a magazine. Then his attention turns to her, he inclines his head and for a spilt, lingering second his eyes meet hers and their gazes lock. 

May offers a small smile in return, the one reserved solely for him. 

Daisy interrupts the microscopic moment happening between them, smashing it to smithereens by aburptly stating, "God, you look awful PC." 

May watches Coulson turn to her young agent. With anyone else, that would be grounds for insubordination but not Daisy, no, because she's somehow managed to wrap the President of the United States around her little finger. Unbelievable. 

"That bad huh?" 

Daisy shrugs, head tilting to tje side as she considers him thoughtfully. "A little rough round the edges Sir. But good news! I've seen far worse." 

May has to smother a laugh at the look on his face, it's a cross between offended and understanding. Taking a moment as he continues to banter back and forth with Daisy about his ragged appearance, she scrutinises him. He really does look rough around the edges as Daisy so graciously mentioned, heavy bags beneath his eyes a tell tale sign he hasn't been sleeping. The way he holds himself is also a giveaway, his body full of tension and she can only imagine how high his stress levels are. Given current circumstances, it's understandable but if he's going to go toe to toe with an unstable world leader and everything else that comes with a presidency, he needs to take better care of himself. As much as she wants to be able to do so herself, she isn't in a position where that's a possibility. 

Daisy's voice and the sound of her own name draws her back out of her reverie. 

"Maybe May can show you some of her badass Tai Chi moves or maybe some yoga to destress. She's really good at it. Relax the mind, the body will follow and all that jazz." 

"Thanks but I'm really not that flexible. I attended a yoga class once and I threw my back out."

Daisy snorts a laugh, obviously finding the image extremely funny and May meets his gaze. He's just about to say something she can tell but the phone suddenly rings inside his office which draws his attention away. His posture stiffens and he politely excuses himself.

May crosses the narrow hall to sit beside the younger woman, her seat offering her a bird's eye view directly inside his office because he forgot to close the door behind him when he left to take the call. Eyes follow his movements, observing a mostly one sided conversation where he does the listening, pacing a few feet then turning to pace back, offering only a word here and there when necessary. The call barely lasts a few minutes before he hangs up. 

He disappears from view for a moment then reappears, taking a moment to remove his dress shoes. 

"Is he okay?" 

May glances to Daisy beside her, giving her a look which says be careful, not because she asked but because she _asked_. There is too many people aboard this plane who don't know. "He's okay." 

Daisy nods, biting her lip. She glances away from May into the office. Coulson is now sat on the couch, legs stretched out before him, head tilted back with his eyes closed. The sound of the TV drifts out to them. "Maybe you should-- you know," she says then jerks her head to the door. "Seeing you usually helps," she discloses quietly, more concerned about the welfare of these two people than crossing any boundaries. 

And May realises that maybe they've been a little too transparent in what's going on between them in front of the chosen few who know. Especially if it's abundantly clear just how much a stolen moment changes the course of their day and attitude. For a moment she wonders if it's just Daisy to notice such things? Considering her close relationship with both herself and Phil. It's logical that Daisy would pick up on things such as that. 

Dismissing any worry, she focuses on what the young agent suggested. One glance into the office decides it. 

"Take point." 

Daisy beams, over the moon at the fact her prodding has worked. "Copy that."

With a quick glance up and down the mostly deserted hall what with the other agents and staff finally taking advantage of the President's order to relax, May slips into the office and the soft click of the door closing draws the sole occupant's attention. 

"Hi," he murmurs in surprise, suddenly perking up at the chance for a moment alone. 

"Daisy was right, you do look like shit." 

Coulson reels back, mock offended. "She didn't use _those_ words exactly. She was much more restrained unlike some." 

May shrugs, feeling amused. "Well it was implied." 

"Awesome," he remarks dryly. "Maybe for future reference, you should look into some classes at the charm school."

"Oh? I thought it was shut down after the epic failure which was your attendance. After all, it did take thirty years for you to make a move." 

Coulson huffs at the teasing and looks away to the TV, affronted by her mocking his effortless charm. 

She narrows her eyes as he essentially pouts. "I've offended you." 

"No."

"Yes." 

"No." 

"Little bit?" She asks, stepping away from the door. 

There's a lengthy pause. "Little bit." 

She nudges his crossed feet with one of her own and he spreads his legs allowing her to step between them. Leaning over him by bracing her hands against the back of the couch, she leans into him. 

Being so close, she invades his every sense. "Is this your way of apologising? Or saying you've missed me?" 

"I haven't done anything yet," she states plainly against his mouth. 

"I'm anticipating." 

A smirk crosses her mouth before she presses it against his own. His groan loses itself in her mouth and he opens easily to her, allowing her tongue inside to taste and tease. His hands find her hips to drag her into his lap so she's left with no alternative other than to straddle him. 

"We can't do this here," she informs him between kisses. Even though it's quiet onboard this plane, there's too many unknowns. It isn't worth the risk but maybe...

He whines in disapproval, pressing up against her to make his harding length known. His whine turns into a moan when she rocks down and she pulls away to look at him. Arousal clouds those tired hazel eyes and beneath her his body remains tense. He needs to sleep and judging by current circumstances, sleeps may be a little far off. So May decides to help. 

Her mouth finds his once more and she kisses him to distraction as she deftly unclaspes his belt buckle and pants, pulling down the zipper slowly. Within seconds mission accomplished and the access required she now has. Her kiss wanders away and she moves downward so she's kneeling in front of him and fingers tease the waistband of his now open pants. She tugs them down just enough and he helps out by lifting his hips so she can easily free him. The sight of him is something she'll never tire of, glorious and a sight for sore eyes and honestly, in this department he has absolutely _nothing_ to worry about. May runs her fingers across his half hard sex, she smiles when he groans quietly. Another thing about she's grown to discover and love is how responsive and vocal he is to her attentions. She teases him a bit more with her hand and soon enough he's rock hard. How she wishes their current location where more secure, what she wouldn't give to slide down onto him and ride him slow to both orgasm and exhaustion. But for now, this will have to do. When she looks up its to find him watching her and she smiles playfully as she squeezes him. 

"Just relax Phil, okay?" She tells him softly, then rushes to add, "and try to stay quiet." 

"What? You don't have to--"

"I know but I want to, so just relax and enjoy it." 

He wants to protest further but the look in her eyes tell him not to, so instead he manages a nod, eyes focused upon her so dark their almost black like the night sky their currently flying through. 

May leans down to run her tongue along his long, hard length, pausing to suck the head before using her tongue to please him in all the ways she's discovered he likes. She finds her rhythm and really gets to work. He moans a little too loud when she intensifies her efforts, moving her mouth up and down and taking his cock that little bit deeper inside her throat everytime.

Coulson's left hand reaches behind to grab the back of the couch and despite the intoxicating sight of his cock disappearing into Melinda's sinful mouth, he turns his face into his arm. The sounds ripped from his throat by her heavenly actions are smothered against his bicep. His other hand wanders down to cradle her head. Not once does he even attempt to direct or push her movements, no, he just allows it to rest there, fingers curled into soft locks as she drives him higher and higher and closer to the edge but never pushes over. _No_. Instead she eases him back from the brink over and over again, driving him _fucking_ wild. 

"Melinda, fuck-- please, I'm-- I'm close." 

It's a powerful thing to have a powerful man such as Phil, President of the United States begging her for release. It's fucking intoxicating. 

For Coulson, nothing exists outside of what she's doing to him, as is always the case when their intimate. He's incapable of thought, only capable of feeling the pleasure assaulting his very being, given to him by this wonderful and beautiful woman. 

"You're-- driving me insane... Fuck!" He pants against his arm. "That, like that." 

She moans around him in reply and his hips thrust up just a little almost automatically, pushing further into her mouth and she moans again, sucking harder, squeezing tighter. Drawing him closer and closer and _closer_. 

Then...

"Melin-- he doesn't finish her name, it falters into a choked gasp and at this point his hand tightens in her hair as his hips cant up seeking and seeking until he peaks like a crescendo. "Jesus-- fuck." She sucks him deep, hard and he pulses in her mouth, coming with a smothered groan. He shudders, body tensing before slowly he relaxes. 

May welcomes his release and swallows it down happily. It pleases her to please him, just like how he has no qualms spending an age with his head buried between her thighs. Quid pro quo at its finest. She releases him and cleans them both up as he catches his breath. Her smile is matched by his own, lazy and sweet and content. When he straightens himself up, tucking himself away and redoing up his pants, he pulls her back into his lap. His kiss is soft, warm and intimate and his groan sends shivers through her when he tastes himself on her tongue. She cradles his head, allowing the kiss to linger, keeping the intimacy alive between them. Gentle fingers sooth through his short hair and she pulls back to just look at him. His eyes are closed and he's relaxed beneath her finally, his body a sated mess relieved of any possible tension. 

Her mission is accomplished. 

She watches those eyes open and how he contemplates her, not for the first time she worders what's going through that mind of his. 

"You okay?"

For a very long moment, he doesn't offer a reply. His thumb brushes against her lower lip. "You have no idea what you do to me," he says instead of answering her question. 

"I have some idea."

Coulson shakes his head, a look she can't identify crossing his face. "No. No, you really don't." 

Still, there's something lingering there under the surface she can't place. "Phil?" 

Again he shakes his head but this time, he kisses her instead of using words. It's short and sweet and when he pulls away, he can't help but yawn. 

Fingers card through his hair once more. "You need to sleep." 

He looks disappointed but understanding. "Yeah, I know." 

With one last kiss, she eases herself from his lap. "Sleep Phil." 

He tilts himself sideways and shifts so he's sprawled along the length of the couch. He face plants into a cushion as he watches her dim the office lights and turn off the TV. "I wish you could stay." 

She kneels beside him, hand resting on his back. "Me too. I'll see you later." Her lips twitch into a smile as he starts to drift off before she even stands, the mind blowing orgasm helping to ease him into a much needed rest. 

When May slips back out of the office, she's confronted by Daisy's knowing smirk. She chooses to ignore it and takes her seat beside the young agent. 

"For future reference, PC really needs to work on being a little more quiet." 

May scowls, flipping through a magazine she'd picked up from the table beside her. "Noted." 

Silence falls, the two agents remain content in their posts and each others company while guarding the now sleeping President.

....... ....... .......


	7. Shining Light

_Hope is being able to see that there is light, despite all the darkness._

Desmond Tutu said that, a man of great knowledge and wisdom. Except at this moment his wise words fall way short of the mark on delivering the feeling of hope he inspired for them to have. The words feel empty and unattainable, resting just out of reach. 

Still they filter through his mind as if tormenting him, mocking him and he adds them to the already long list, just another one thing...

The Oval office is partially in darkness, save for a lamp across the room offering a dim light cast low. It's quiet, now at least, not unlike an hour ago when he was surrounded by his staff, the Secretary of State, Directors of the FBI and CIA and the Secret Service. It had been a flurry of updates and strategies and planning for taking an impromptu trip. 

Now quiet hangs over the office, it's both welcome and unwanted in a clash of feeling. The former because it's a welcome difference from the constant presence of his staff and the feeling of drowning under the pressure of liaisons with countless agencies and the world's media. The latter simply because the silence offers his mind the opportunity to drift back to the despicable images he witnessed; corridors of bodies, pools of blood, gunshots and screams. The voices and agony of grieving families torn apart unnecessarily. It filters through his mind all too easily. 

Another dark day in this country's history. 

He downs the remaining amber liquid in his glass, then reaches for the bottle of Haig once more, pouring a substantial amount back into the belly of glass. Alcohol is not the answer he's very much aware, but it works well towards numbing his senses. Coulson leans his head back and stares up at the ornate ceiling. This room has seen so many events over the years, some brilliant and some horrific, yesterday's events unfortunately add to the wrong category and it's up to him to fix it, to push through reforms so this never happens again. Because it can't, too many lives are being lost and it's time for change, so events such as yesterday never see the light of day ever again. 

Because this can't be the world in which they live, where events such as this is even a remote possibility. 

It's in moments such as this where he wishes for a normal life, not because he doesn't love his job, no, because he does, but because it comes with so many restrictions and limitations. He simply cannot do what he wants, when he wants, it just isn't possible. Which right now, he wishes were different because in this single moment, all he wishes for is to be able to go to bed wrapped around the woman he loves. The last two days have been beyond hectic, an absolute nightmare brought to life and he's barely seen her other than in passing, as he's either been locked away in the situation room or here in his office. Coulson had tried to catch a moment alone but had been intercepted by Fitz and since then, nothing. He had tried calling but reached her voicemail more times than he'd like which only made his concern heighten further. Incidents like this always had a profound effect upon her and it makes him feel both guilty and hurt that he hasn't been able to be there, to see how she's doing. It hadn't made circumstances any easier to bare with it lingering in the back of his mind, every second of every hour. 

Lifting his legs, Coulson props his feet on the corner of his desk. Taking a sip of his drink, he looks at his watch and wonders if it's too late to call. Glancing to the phone, it crosses his mind whether the attempt would be futile. Circumstances such as these have always been difficult for her, talking about it even more so. But still... even if the call remains unanswered, it shows he cares. 

A knock at the door halts further thought on the matter. The door opens before he can call out and he sighs heavily. "Grace, I told you to go home." 

"Ah, not Grace Sir." Daisy says hesitantly, just inside the doorway, lingering awkwardly. "But she did leave about forty minutes ago." 

"Good." Coulson rolls his head to look at his favourite agent, beside Melinda of course. "What can I do for you. Daisy?" 

The young agent closes the door behind her softly and takes a hesitant step further into the Oval. "I uh-- I don't want to overstep boundaries Sir, but I-- it's about Agent May." 

Coulson tenses and his feet drop like lead weight from the desk. "Is she alright?" He asks a tad too desperately but there's no pretense here, Daisy knows exactly what's going on, has from the very beginning. 

"I'm not sure, she's--" Daisy shifts on her feet, searching for the right words. "I'm don't think so Sir, no."

His hand tightens so hard around the crystal glass, it's a miracle it doesn't break under the force. 

"It was supposed to be her night off but she's here, I tried talking with her but..." Daisy shrugs, feeling as though she's failed her boss and mentor by not being able to help even though the issue rests with May not being able to discuss it. Either way it hurts. 

"She's here?" 

"Yeah, she stepped outside for some air." She points vaguely behind him. "About twenty minutes ago and never came back." 

Coulson turns to look at the door that leads out into the rose garden. Then looks back to Daisy. "Thank you, for looking out for her. It truly means a great deal. To us both." 

Her eyes drop to the floor. "Agent May... she means a lot to me Sir."

Coulson smiles softly. "I know."

Daisy looks up and jerks her thumb over her shoulder. "I better get back out there." 

He watches her slip through the door back into position before making a move. He steps out and the cold rushes to greet him, in defence he flicks up his collar and buries his hands in his pockets. Looking right, nothing. Looking left, bingo. He moves down the patio, passing a dozen or so agents before he reaches her. Piper and Davies, the two closest to her, subtly move away to give them space as the others turn away. 

"It's cold out here." 

May looks over her shoulder at him, her face a blank canvas but it's her eyes, within those depths showcase a world of torment. She turns her gaze back to the darkness beyond the roses, the night sky clear and the stars are shining bright. They hold her gaze hostage. 

Coulson steps up beside her. They're quiet for a long time, but eventually he breaks it. "Daisy came to see me, turns out she's worried about you." 

Her fingers curl into fists. "She shouldn't have bothered you." 

"I'm glad she did," he says softly. "I tried calling but--"

"I didn't answer," she finishes for him. "I'm sorry." 

"You don't have to apologise, I was just worried." 

She doesn't respond. 

Uncaring about appearances, he closes the gap to press against her side, his arms coming around her. 

"Phil..." 

"I don't care."

She turns to look at him, her mask dropping just enough for him to see passed, to see everything she holds at bay beyond those walls. 

_Oh_ _sweetheart_.

It hurts, it's that simple, to see such a storm of emotion raging within her beautiful eyes. His hand cups her face, gentle fingers trace beneath her eye and down her cheek. "You look tired." 

"So do you." 

"Have you slept at all?" 

A slight shake of her head is answer enough.

"Yeah, me either." Coulson stares at her for what feels like forever and the one thing that has remained a constant in his mind is the one thing he wants most right now, what he's wanted all day actually. It hurtles to the forefront of his mind and stays there, leaving room for nothing else. _Fuck_ _it_. "Come on." 

"What?" 

He shakes his head and takes her hand, then leads her away from the shadows they were shrouded under. Looking to Piper, he addresses one of May's most trusted agents. "I'm retiring for the evening."

Piper subtly assesses the situation and makes a motion to Davis with her hand without looking at him. "Of course, Mr President." 

They continue back across the patio to his office, hearing Piper, who's following, declare behind them, " _Eagle is nesting."_

Not for the first time, Coulson rolls his eyes at the codewords assigned to describe not only himself but his every movement. 

With Davies and Piper trailing them, passing the other agents poised around on guard, they make it to the corridor beyond his office where they meet Daisy and Hunter. There's a brief expression of relief from the younger agent before she schools her features. Coulson offers her a smile as they pass. There must have been an instruction given because the halls are deserted of agents and staff as they make the trip to retire, another thing to be thankful for of Daisy.

Though as soon as they're out of site, a swarm of secret service men and women will reappear once more to stand in defence along the halls. 

The walk is some hundred yards or so from the Oval office to The Residence and then finally, they're shut away from the outside world with one destination in mind. The bedroom. 

Coulson leads her inside, as Daisy and Hunter take their place on either side of the bedroom door, Piper and Davis stand opposite and he closes it quietly with a murmured good night. 

That's it. They're alone. Thank God. 

He turns to find her standing in the middle of the room, staring at the bed, looking as though she's worlds away. 

"It's beautiful in here." May has always appreciated the design, architecture and history set throughout these rooms, through the building as a whole really. 

Coulson looks around, now grown use to the surroundings. "It is rather grand isn't it?" 

May's twitch in a barely there smile as she glances at him. 

Walking up to her, he sets a hand to the small of her back. "Come on, it's time to sleep." 

Quietly, they begin the process of getting ready for bed, he offers a t-shirt and she accepts, slipping it on so she's clad in only that and black panties. Any other time, the sight of her would stir him wild but not tonight, tonight he feels wary, emotionally drained and exhausted, almost down to his very bones. They crawl into the bed, slipping beneath cool sheets and his head has barely touched the pillow before she reaches for him. That as simple as it is, speaks volumes which she does not. Coulson follows her guidance, drawing up behind her, playing big spoon to her little as he wraps his arms around her. 

May threads her fingers through his and pulls their joined hands to cradle against her chest. 

She takes the comfort he so readily gives. 

This is exactly what he wanted, to be here like this with her. Which isn't a new development, he wants it all the time. But even more so now. 

Coulson closes his eyes, burying his face in her neck and allows his body to relax, though it feels a struggle. The tension and heartache is almost impossible to let slip away, because it feels anchored to his very soul. 

For a very long time, the bedroom is quiet. So much so, he thinks she's actually fallen asleep until her whispers drifts out into the darkness. 

"Do you think we can stop this? Make it so it never happens again." 

He sighs heavily, his breath ghosting across her skin. Feeling the weight of the world resettle upon his shoulders with her words. It's a question he's been asking himself all day, over and over. "The topic is fraught with argument, unfortunately. On one hand, as they have for decades before now, people have the right to bare arms but, at what cost? How many times must this happen? How many lives must be lost? Men, women and children... slaughtered in a place which should be safe and secure. A place where adults go to teach and children go to learn and to grow, not lose their lives." 

May tightens her grip on his hand. "They were so small, Phil." 

Coulson can see the images from the body cams worn by the first responders clear in his mind's eye. "I'm going to try. It has to stop." 

She turns around in his embrace and his heart aches at the look upon her face. It's like Bahrain all over again and it shatters him even further. 

"I'm going to try." He repeats softly, his thumb is gentle as it sweeps away a rogue tear across her cheek. 

May shifts her head to press her mouth to his. There's no heat, instead it's soft and comforting, pulling what they need from each other instead of starting a fire between them. 

When she pulls away, his eyes find hers. "I love you." 

For a few seconds after, the grief in her eyes is replaced by astonishment. His words are a surprise because he's never said it before, until now. He's certainly felt it, expressed it through his actions but never had the words been spoken. The first night together at Camp David, love had been spoken of and shared as it had countless times since, but until now those three words were left unspoken. 

Her fingers curl into the material of his t-shirt and her eyes shine that little bit brighter. "I love you too." 

Silence falls and it gives him a few minutes to rethink a topic that's been plaguing him all day. "Tomorrow, when we make the visit-- you don't have to come. I'd understand if you didn't want to go." 

May swallows at the reminder of what the schedule holds come morning. They're going _there_ , to pay their respects and visit with everyone this tragedy has struck. To show this administration won't stand idly by and allow situations such as this to keep happening. 

"It would be easy to stay here and not go, but-- they deserve it. The victims and their families deserve it. I want to go to pay my respects with you." 

"If you're sure." 

"I am," she declares with an air of finality which says the discussion is over. "But thank you for saying that." 

"I never want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable or hurt. I just--"

"I know." 

He nods, shifting closer to slip a leg between hers. "Do you think you can sleep now?" Coulson asks quietly, sliding his hand down her back. 

May nods, taking further comfort from his presence and embrace. 

"Good." But when she continues to stare at him, his own narrow back. "What?" 

"Nothing," she says softly. "You just-- you have this way of making things seem possible. Like everything will be okay."

"You use to tell me it was infuriating when we were younger." 

May smirks. 

Coulson rolls his eyes, tilting his head to steal a kiss. "You do that for me too, it's because of you. It's always been you." He whispers the confession against her mouth, low and rough but full of feeling. "You make me want to be better, to do better." 

She pulls back to look at him, allowing deep brown eyes to meet hazel in the darkness. There's so much feeling laid bare in the depths of his eyes, almost enough to drown in. There's no possible words meaningful enough to express how she feels, words become redundant, so action takes point. Her kiss this time remains slow but it's infused with so much feeling it's stifling. Even though it could easily escalate, it doesn't. Not tonight. Tonight is about a different kind of intimacy, one they have very rarely indulge in. 

So when May eventually breaks her kiss and a yawn escapes almost immediately after, Coulson gazes upon her with amused affection. "It's time to sleep." 

Wrapped together in a cocoon of expensive sheets, they slowly allow sleep to claim them, it may not be completely restful but it's enough. Because all that matters is that they're here, together. 

And it highlights perfectly what Desmund Tutu said, that even in moments of darkness, there can and will be light. 

....... ....... .......


	8. Potential Poison

The flames roar in the fireplace across the room as rain pelts heavily against the floor to ceiling windows. Throughout the open plan loft, light is cast low from two lamps, one beside the front door, while the other rests on the side table in the living area. 

It's cosy and warm and quiet, exactly the thing she needs right now. The only sound to fill the apartment comes from the radio, where between the hours of 9pm and 1am, it's all about mellow music magic. Soothing songs to relax too, or in May's case, to cook too.... or at least attempt. 

It's not the most ideal task to take on while attempting to relax and destress, but she has to eat after all. 

May looks down at her phone where the email is open showing details of the recipe her mother sent. Apparently, simple enough even a child could accomplish it without disaster, at least according to her mother's clear instruction, a mother who has never really gotten over the fact cooking doesn't come naturally to her only child. Whether her mother meant it to or not, May takes the recipe as a challenge and silently vows to email a photo of her success to her mother... that is, if it turns out to be an actual success. You can't always judge these things of course, like for instance the evil kitchen fairies who deem it appropriate to set fires once your back is turned for like five seconds... little demon bastards, they never make it easy. 

Turning away from the phone with a determination she inherited from both her parents, she gathers her ingredients. One small red onion, 2 large tomatoes, half a cucumber, black olives, feta cheese and fresh mint leaves. Dried oregano sits beside the glass bottle of extra virgin olive oil and lemon juice with sea salt and black pepper. So with the ingredients set out before her, May makes a start and with such perfect timing that's when her phone starts to vibrate. For a brief moment she wonders if it's her mother, using that weird sixth sense she has to know she's attempting this, but instead Phil's handsome face appears across the screen. 

A soft smile spreads onto her face as she swipes the screen, then taps the speaker symbol. 

"Hi," she answers, speaking a little louder so her voice carries through the line. 

"Hi." 

"I thought you had a meeting with Talbot?" She picks up the onion and begins to slice it thinly, once complete she dumps it into the bowl. Then she reaches for a tomato. 

"I did but I uh..." he pauses and she thinks he sounds a little guilty, more than a little actually. "I may have delegated."

"Oh?" The sharp knife moves with ease as she roughly chops the first tomato. If there's one thing she's always been good at, it's chopping. She moves onto the second tomato. 

"Yeah, M-Sec now has the pleasure." 

The chopped tomatoes join the onion in the bowl. Next is the cucumber. "I can only imagine how thrilled Hill was at the prospect. Did she frown at you in furious disapproval?" 

Again Coulson pauses over the line. "Well I wouldn't exactly know, I had Grace arrange it." 

"Coward."

"It's one of the many perks of being the boss." 

"She can still kick your ass, you know." May tells him, referring to Secretary Hill. Again, the now deseeded and chopped cucumber joins the bowl. 

"I know, but that's why I have you." 

"Is that the only reason?"

"Well... there are many, _many_ more reasons why I keep you around." His teasing smile is evident in his voice. 

"Oh, is that so?" 

"Hmmm," he hums quietly, then changes the topic of conversation. "So what are you doing?" 

"Making dinner." Black olives enter the bowl, now it's time for feta. According to the recipe, cut into small cubes, so she does. So far so good. 

"Oh... is that wise?" 

"I _can_ cook Phil." 

"Debatable," he jokes lightly. "So, what are you making?" 

She dumps the feta in next. "Right now? A salad." 

"I've never encountered burnt salad before. Is that even possible?" 

May huffs, completely unamused by his jesting as she sprinkles some mint leaves on top. "I can make a salad just fine, thank you Mr President." 

"I find myself awfully curious. Do you have enough for one more?" 

"What? Why?" She asks suspiciously, looking down at the phone. "Where are you?" 

"Pulling into your street." 

May smiles at the unexpected visit, at the chance to see him. "Use your key." 

"Yes ma'am." 

With a swipe across the screen, the call ends. 

Minutes later as she's closing the oven door after putting in the chicken breasts, the sound of a key in the lock reaches her ears. Standing up, she glances over just in time as he steps in through the front door. 

His smile carries across the room upon seeing her. 

As he moves across to the kitchen, his jacket is removed to drape over the back of a barstool and he loosens his tie. 

May is tossing the salad lightly when his hands slide around her waist, his lips gently press a kiss to her neck in an intimate greeting. She smiles warmly when he inhales deeply, then slowly exhales, his warm breath ghostly across her skin. 

"You smell nice," he murmurs into the crook of her neck, then hums softly. 

That would be because she showered before attempting dinner. She doesn't answer and he doesn't move away, even as she drizzles the olive oil and lemon juice over her finished salad. She can feel his eyes watching her as she does. 

"That looks nice," he says, not bothering to hide his surprise. He's very much aware of her lack of culinary skills. He'd been witness to many a culinary disaster back at the academy and later when they were partners, thankfully she always had an abundance of takeout menus on hand for _emergencies_. 

May looks proudly down at the bowl, feeling accomplished. "I told you I could make salad." 

"And what are you serving with it?" 

May drags her phone closer to read the full title of the recipe. "Herb roasted chicken breasts and cherry tomatoes, with a feta salad." 

Coulson's eyes widen. "That sounds-- ambitious." At least it does when you're as _skilled_ as May in the kitchen. 

She jerks her head away so she's able to glare half-hearted at him. 

"Just teasing." Coulson rushes to reassure as he squeezes her hips then steps away. "Is there anything I can do to help?" 

"I have dinner under control. You could open some wine." 

"Absolutely." He moves to do just that, reaching up into the cupboard where the glasses live. Yellowy-gold liquid soon fills the belly of the glass and he hands one to the woman before him. He taps his glass to hers when he settles by her side, leaning back against the island. 

"How was your day?" 

"Better now," he says with a sincere smile and he can do nothing to hide the dark circles beneath his eyes. "What about you? How was your day?" He asks quietly, referring to her meetings with Director Fury. 

"Better now," she repeats his words back to him with a smirk, turning her head to look at him. Such a domestic scene they find themselves in, drinking wine and making dinner while discussing their day. It doesn't happen very often so when it does, she savours it wholeheartedly. 

The alarm she'd set on her phone alerts her the seven minutes are up and May sets aside her glass to attend to the oven. As the recipe directs, she adds the cherry tomatoes, some rosemary and fennel seeds, a drizzle of oil with some sea salt and black paper. With one hand she closes the oven as the other resets the timer for thirteen minutes. The whole time the heavy yet warm weight of his gaze presses into her and she wonders if he's judging her culinary skills once again, but when she turns around Coulson's just watching her with soft eyes and an even softer smile.

 _Oh_.

"What?" 

He shakes his head, looking a little embarrassed at being caught out staring. "Nothing, just-- you're very beautiful, that's all. I don't think I tell you that enough."

For a fraction of a second she stares at him in stunned surprise before rolling her eyes. 

"What?" 

"You were _never_ this smooth when we were younger." 

Coulson shrugs, taking a sip of his wine. "You were very intimidating back then but if I had charmed you, you would have been blown away." 

May raises her eyebrows at him, clearly doubtful. 

Which makes him amend his words all to quickly. "Okay-- maybe not blown away but still..." he tries but continues to falter at the look on her face. "No?" 

"You were a dork Phil." 

"I'm still a dork now if you haven't noticed." 

"Oh I have," she teases, hiding her smile in her glass. 

"You like it though." 

May pauses and continues to pause for dramatic effect until his features become uncertain, making her eventually cave in. "Yes, I like it." 

Coulson smiles triumphantly. "I _knew_ it." Suddenly his attention is drawn to the radio playing in the background as if that's the first time he's noticed music playing. Feeling brave and bolstered by the certainty she likes his inner dork qualities, he steps closer. Coulson sets aside his glass, then takes hers from her hand, ignoring the frown of confusion on her face. "Come on, dance with me." 

"What?" 

"Come here," he says softly, opening his arms for her to step into, but she doesn't budge which isn't much of a surprise. 

"Why?" 

How she manages to make one word sound so suspicious is beyond him. "I want to dance with you." 

"No." 

"Melinda." 

"I don't like dancing." 

"I could order you, issue an executive order for you to dance with me." 

May's unamused eyes stare him down which is a feat in itself considering she's shorter and lesser men would crumble but he's not most men. "I'm not sure it works that way, Mr President." 

Coulson shrugs unconcerned. "We can always find out, if you like." Instead of waiting for her to come to him, he steps forward into her space. "Dance with me," he whispers, cajoling her softly, sliding his one hand over her hip as his right hand finds hers. "Come on, let's sway a little." 

"Fine." 

Slowly as the song changes to Otis Redding, they move, swaying together in her kitchen. 

Coulson pulls her closer, his warm hand settles on the small of her back holding her tight. 

Despite her protests, May's eyes flutter as she rests her head against his, relaxing instantly as she enjoys the press of his body against hers. 

_These arms of mine, they are lonely_   
_Lonely and feeling blue_   
_These arms of mine, they are yearning_   
_Yearning from wanting you._   
_And if you would let them hold you_   
_Oh how grateful if would be_   
_These arms of mine, they are burning_   
_Burning from wanting you_

"I always knew you liked to dance," He teases softly, the warm air of his breath ghosts across her skin.

"Do not." 

"Liar." Coulson huffs in exasperation. "Little bit?" He kisses her shoulder where her sweater has slipped. 

She bites her lip, fighting back the moan especially when his teeth nip her skin, his tongue following soon after to sooth the abused area. "Just with you."

His answering smile gets lost against her skin, as it also serves to muffle his agreeing words. "Just with you." His thumb brushes hers. 

May slides her hand along his shoulder to his neck, her fingers sinking into the hair at his nape.

Coulson sighs, pressing her more tighter against him. His fingertips tease a strip of exposed skin just above her waistband. He pulls his head back but barely, just enough to angle his mouth to meet hers. His mouth is soft and hot beneath hers, not unlike his kiss as his lips move over hers slowly. His hand releases hers to cradle her head as the kiss deepens. She tastes like the wine in their glasses. It's slow and intoxicating, like a fire gradually building in intensity. The music fades to nothing and the gentle swaying grinds to a halt as he turns her into the counter, pressing her back before lifting her up to step between her legs. 

May tilts his head back just slightly, flicking her tongue against the roof of his mouth. His hand finds bare skin beneath her sweater this time as she wraps her legs around his waist, keeping him in place even though there's no possibility of retreat. 

He isn't going anywhere. 

Well not until her phone starts vibrating, the alarm she set signalling their dinner is now done. 

She jerks away panting, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. Her fingers unfurl from his hair to touch his jaw, thumb sweeping across his bottom lip. "Hold that thought." 

Coulson's eyes flash and he kisses her thumb sweetly before helping her down from the counter. He steps back and watches her move to the oven, still a little dazed from the kiss. Good. He shakes himself and makes himself useful, collecting plates and refilling their glasses. 

May triumphantly pulls out the skillet, discarding the rosemary, she transfers the chicken breasts to the cutting board. As it rests, red wine vinegar is stirred into the tomatoes, before being tossed with parsley. Slicing the chicken, she serves it with the roasted cherry tomatoes and a good helping of her feta salad.

Proudly, she hands a plate to Phil. 

He takes it and looks down. His blue eyes scrutinise the dish closely for dramatic effect. "This looks really good, Melinda." 

The awe in his voice is impossible to miss. "You haven't tried it yet. It could be awful." She picks up her glass and walks to the table, taking a seat as he follows. He sits to her left as she sits at the head. She watches him as he takes a tentative bite of chicken and when his eyes widen, she begins to panic it really is fucking awful and she may have just unintentionally poisoned the President of the United States. _Fuck_. 

"That's delicious." He eventually announces, then turns his attention to the salad. After a moment of chewing, he bumps his knee against hers playfully. "That's good too, really good." 

Suspicion settles as she wonders if he's being polite not to offend her, so she tries her mother's recipe attempt for herself.... and he's right. It _is_ good, really good actually. She sets down her fork to immediately pick up her phone. Focusing upon the plates, she snaps a quick picture. 

Startled by the flash, Coulson looks up. "What are you doing?" 

"It's for my mother." 

It's all the explanation he needs, being all too familiar with Lian May. 

Their conversation lapses into a comfortable silence, and May studies the man beside her covertly as they eat. He looks tired but relaxed. She notices that Coulson glances up at her every so often between bites. May doesn't question him, if he wants to say something he will. So instead she enjoys the quiet between them. 

He finishes first and he takes the opportunity to watch her, not as covertly as she had only moments ago. Coulson rests his elbow on the table to rest his chin in his palm, long fingers of the other hand twist the stem of his glass as he scrutinises her. He stares and stares, eyes drop automatically to her mouth when her tongue sweeps across her lower lip. 

She takes a sip of her wine, feeling the weight of his beautiful eyes upon her. "Are you alright?"

Her voice seems to shake him. "I'm fine." He smiles that smile she loves so much and there's a warmth in his eyes she can't name. 

She finishes her wine then begins to collect the plates. He follows behind her back to the kitchen. Quick work is made of the dishes loading them into the dishwasher and she jumps when his arms slide around her waist from behind. 

"Thank you for a lovely dinner," he says quietly, an odd tone in his voice she can't place as his embrace tightens. 

"I'm glad it was edible." 

He huffs a laugh and kisses her cheek sweetly, stepping back to allow her to finish. The leftover salad he covers and places in the fridge. He turns back to find her refilling get their glasses. "You trying to get me drunk?" 

"Maybe." 

"No need. I'm a sure thing." 

"That's good to know." She hands him both glasses. "Go sit down, I'll finish up here." He tries to protest but she waves him away with a kiss to his cheek. "Then we can find out if you really are a sure thing or just a tease."

And as he walks to the couch opposite the fireplace with an amused smile, she couldn't help but wish every night was like this and she has certain suspicions, he does too. 

_....... ....... ......._


	9. Midnight Stroll

It feels like an absolute age since Davis had been deployed on his top secret mission. 

It's quiet and dark in their current location of an underground car lot, where agents are dotted around standing guard even though the area is completely deserted. 

For what feels like the thousandth time in only ten minutes, Coulson checks his watch, to see very little time has passed since he took up his current position to wait. Impatience has started to settle into his very bones as he fills in the squares to four across, hoping to distract himself as time slowly ticks by. 

"Thank you again for arranging this, Daisy."

"It's no problem, I know a guy who knows a guy Sir." 

Coulson raises an eyebrow but doesn't question her methods, she came through and that's all that matters. 

"We sent a team ahead to check the area as a precaution. We got a green light." Daisy tells him. "It's safe and secure." 

"You slimmed down the detail for tonight, Mack?" 

"As you asked Sir. The inner circle so to speak. Eighteen agents, not including Agent May of course." 

"Of course," Coulson replies, frowning as he fills in another answer. "Daisy?" 

"Yeah PC?" She replies, only this time twists around in the passenger seat to look back at the President, who's dressed down. Gone is the usual sharp suit, in its place is dark jeans and a charcoal herringbone wool overcoat with matching scarf. 

"Nine across, three letters. Which common acronym stands for hypertext preprocessor?" 

"PHP," she supplies easily to the computer associated question. 

"Awesome," he mutters low, "I knew that." 

"Of course you did Sir." 

Coulson narrows his eyes at the younger agent's blatant sarcasm, which has absolutely no effect when she grins back at him. 

Mack groans heavily then as he looks beyond the front window. 

Daisy follows his line of sight and her partner's feeling of dread soon become her own. "Oh no." 

In the back seat casually slumped in the corner against the door, Coulson looks up from yesterday's Times' crossword. "What's wrong?"

"This is bad," Mack mutters, around another a groan. 

Daisy turns in her seat once again to look back at the President. "May's incoming and she looks pissed, like _really_ pissed." 

Coulson frowns setting aside the paper, glancing up to see the woman in question marching in their direction with fierce determination. 

"Just so we're clear here PC, this whole thing was on your orders right?" 

"Yes, of course," he says automatically in reassurance because it had been. This whole scenario had been his idea and he'd roped his detail into helping. Which quickly leads to the realisation that this is all on him, the full force of a potential angry Melinda May could be levelled his way. That's not exactly what he hoped would come of tonight. 

The young women's face suddenly brightens at the confirmation though, now knowing she's relatively safe from any blame. "That makes everything alright then." 

"You think?" Mack mutters as his boss draws nearer to their position. "Davis looks scared." Referring to the man trailing behind their boss like a scolded, frightened puppy. "Maybe it was a bad idea to have sent him to get her." 

Coulson smirks.

"Davis is fine." Daisy easily bats away the words. "He always looks like that around May," she adds, looking and sounding a tad too gleeful.

Suddenly the back door opens, thankfully not the one he's leaning against and there she is, beautiful as ever and royally pissed. Such a lovely contradiction. 

"Hi," he greets her, sending her a winning smile that usually weakens her. 

Except now it doesn't, because instead May narrows her eyes. "What's going on? Why are you here? Davis said there was a problem." 

"No problem, I assure you." 

"Then why was I pulled from my bed at one in the morning?" 

All to sudden, he's completely unsure and afraid he's misjudged the situation. "Oh-- were you asleep?" Guilt begins to creep in at the thought of disturbing some of the very little rest she manages to get. He immediately starts to feel bad. 

For a very long moment, she's silent which only makes his uncertainty worse.

"No." 

"Oh good," he says, feeling immensely better that he hadn't dragged her from a rare and much needed slumber. "Get in." 

She doesn't. "Why?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why should I get in? Where are we going?" She asks, still standing in the open door. 

Coulson shrugs. "You'll have to get in to find out, where's your sense of adventure?!" 

A frown crosses her face. "Upstairs, tucked in bed." 

Daisy barely suppresses her snort of amusement. 

"Come on, get in." 

May rolls her eyes and does exactly as he directed, slamming the door behind her. 

"Ready Sir?"

Coulson nods, meeting Mack's eyes in the rear view mirror. "Yes, thank you Mack. Off we go." 

As they set off for the very short drive, May turns to the man beside her. She stares and stares and stares.... waiting for him to crumble like most men would. 

"That doesn't work on me anymore, you know." 

She huffs in annoyance knowing he's right, crossing her arms. "Where are we going?" 

"For a walk." 

May continues to stare at him, this time thinking she hadn't heard him right. "What?" 

"We're going for a walk." 

She waves her hand in the air, indicating to where they currently are. "I wouldn't exactly call this walking, Phil." 

He shakes his head. "We have to drive to get to where we can walk," he explains patiently. Coulson rolls his head in her direction, lowering his voice to explain. "I've been hauled up in the UN for three days and I still have three more to go. I need a break and I've _missed_ _you_." 

Her tough facade softens. "And that calls for a walk at one in the morning?"

He reaches over to take her hand. "Daisy pulled some strings." He leans forward to pick up a black travel mug which he then hands to her. "Here." 

Taking it, she takes a tentative sip. Her favourite tea. She softens further. 

He picks up his own. "Good?" 

"Very," she says softly. "Thank you." 

He smiles that smile which makes her stomach flip and this time it works, if she softens any further she'll be a puddle of goo. 

"Where are we going?" She tries again to get an answer from him. 

"We're nearly there." 

"Where?" 

"You'll see."

Squeezing his hand, May takes in the surroundings passing by outside the window as the slimmed down motorcade pulls up to the intended destination. Gates are soon unlocked and then they enter Bryant Park after hours. 

Before they know it, the doors are opening and they step out into the cold, biting air chilling New York. 

As she moves around the SUV, May takes in her agents and realises he's assembled their most trusted team. The ones who _know_. 

Coulson steps up beside her, he scrutinises her for a moment then unwraps the scarf around his neck, to then secure it around her own. Such a gentlemanly gesture. 

May takes a deep breath, the smell of him upon the soft and expensive material filling her senses. "Thank you." 

A soft smile graces his handsome face. "You're very welcome. It's colder than I realised." He offers her his arm. "Would you care to join me for a midnight stroll?" 

May rolls her eyes even as she slips her hand around his arm, drawing closer to his side. "It isn't midnight." 

"Don't spoil the moment by nitpicking at the details, Melinda." He shoots her an annoyed glare laced with no heat as they set off.

The Secret Service men and women spread out around them, distant enough to give them adequate privacy but close enough, for if something were to happen. 

They lapse into silence as they make their way down a lit path. It's so quiet, a peaceful haven in the middle of a concrete jungle, whose streets remain buzzing with life every hour of the day, no matter the weather. Distantly, a siren can be heard accompanied by the loud honk of multiple horns. The night is dry yet ever so cold and it's an excuse to draw closer to each other. This is exactly what Coulson had in mind, when he approached Daisy earlier that day with the idea. A chance to stretch his legs and clear his mind, a chance for fresh air and an opportunity to spend time alone with Melinda. Protocol dictates that this is against protocol but who cares? because he doesn't. It isn't the first time he's broken protocol and it certainly won't be the last, not if it means many more moments like this and it's not as though he's totally unprotected. 

"I'm sorry about the late hour." 

"It's fine Phil, I was awake when Davis came to get me. I was worried something was wrong."

"I'm sorry to have worried you, that wasn't the intention." 

"Clearly." 

"It's worth it though, right?" 

May considers. It's absolutely freezing out and they're obviously not alone, surrounded by a dozen or so of her agents and while elaborate public displays of affection isn't a comfort zone she finds herself in often, he's right. It is worth it, to spend a little time together. Instead of answering, she ghosts her mouth across his cheek. 

Coulson smiles at the contact, returning her gesture with one of his own, a brush of lips against her head. 

It's nice, being here and just strolling together.... it's also a first for them too. They haven't done this before, well, not since they started this relationship. 

They spilt of the current path to take another, a canopy of trees rustle in a barely felt breeze above them. It really is beautiful but also eerie, being the only occupants of such a vast expanse of space in the middle of the night can only be creepy. 

Walking further into the park, the fountain becomes visible through the darkness. Drawing closer, Coulson gestures to a bench sat opposite. May settles beside him, close to his side drawing warmth from him and she burrows even further into his embrace when he places an arm around her shoulders. 

Coulson takes a sip of his tea, the flavours that burst upon his tongue are the same as the night at Camp David, instantly drawing upon the memory of their first kiss in the kitchen. It seems like such a long time ago now, even though it hasn't been. Time seems to be passing by with such a furious pace or at least it feels that way with how busy he has been. It makes the moments they have together more special and sacred almost, because they both know how quickly circumstances change and with that, obstacles thrown to keep them apart. Which is why he goes to great lengths to make time with her a priority, making sure he has time whenever possible, even if it's pulling strings to take a walk at one in the morning through a New York city park. 

His gaze wanders away from the fountain to the woman beside him, but her eyes are drawn to the beautiful water feature before them. 

During the day many people would be gathered around the fountain, workers on lunch breaks, friends meeting, parents with young children, elderly gentlemen playing chess. It's a beautiful place to just sit and think, to enjoy the sound of the water and watch the world go by. The park itself is beautiful and normally is buzzing with activity, offering yoga and dance classes, art displays, music and magic performances. Now, far after closing time the park is still and docile, the complete reverse in comparison to the flurry of activity during daylight hours. It's nice though, being here. It offers an escape almost, away from everything that comes with his job. 

For a very long time, a comfortable and companionable silence rests between them. Both taking enjoyment from the stolen opportunity he orchestrated. 

"Do you miss being normal?" She asks eventually, breaking the silence softly with her question. 

Coulson plays the card of looking affronted at the suggestion rather well. "Are you saying I'm abnormal?" 

May snorts thoroughly amused and fails to cover it with her mug. 

"I'm offended by the insinuation," he tells her seriously. "And that's saying a lot considering I deal with Maria on a daily basis."

Maria always takes great pleasure in teasing Phil about the things he could do better, though it's mostly all in jest. Their relationship has always been the same, ever since the academy, filled with banter, bickering and horseplay. 

"You have no one to blame but yourself. You selected her for Secretary of State." 

Coulson frowns, knowing she's right in her teasing. He brought about the circumstances which allow Maria the opportunity daily to drive him insane, despite being the most powerful man in the world. 

"I actually meant, do you miss normality?" 

May's question draws him back and Coulson looks down at her, taking only a few seconds to consider her question. "I do and I realised quite quickly, how much. I think this job and all that comes with it, but it quickly opens your eyes to the things you take for granted. Like tonight for instance, I simply can't go for a walk without Daisy pulling strings to get us into a park after hours, surrounded by an eighteen strong Secret service detail." 

Said detail is almost unnoticeable at this point having faded almost into the darkness around them to give them some semblance of privacy. 

In understanding, May touches his leg gently. "It must be hard." 

Leaning in, he kisses her gently. "You make it easier," Coulson tells her, words whispered against her lips. "I love the nights where I can escape to your apartment. From cooking dinner and watching TV, to just enjoying the quiet curled up in front of the fire and making love. Those nights mean everything." 

Her hand moves to his face, feeling the prick of day old stubble beneath her fingertips as they graze along his jaw. 

"You give me back a sense of normality that's missing from my life. You make moments however small feel impossibly big and worthwhile, and you have no idea how much that means to me." 

Hearing those words mean more than he can possibly know. May doesn't tell him though, not straight away, instead she teases. "Sap." 

He grins back. "You like it." 

Her face falls immediately losing the smile, leaving no expression. 

"Right? Melinda?" Coulson refuses to become unsure. She's playing him, he knows her too well. 

"No, I don't _just_ like it." She tells him simply, stealing a kiss. "Because it means everything to me too," she then admits with a smile. 

And his heart positively aches at the sight. This woman is absolutely everything, _everything_ to him. 

His gaze is heavy and penetrative, almost to her very soul it feels. "What?" 

But he says nothing, instead he stands and offers her a hand which she accepts. But instead of continuing their walk like she thought, he pulls her close so she's flush against him. His kiss is slow but intrusive, his tongue slides into her mouth easily. Her free hand slides into the hair at his nape. He wraps her up in his embrace, holding her tight. He kisses her and kisses her, enjoying the feel of her against him, the taste of her on his tongue, so much like that very first night. However long passes, before he finally slows his kiss to separate from her mouth. 

For a little while after, they just hold each other close, swaying slightly. Eventually Coulson breaks the moment. 

"Shall we walk some more?" 

"I'd like that." 

"Then I'd like to take you to bed." 

May raises an eyebrow. "Is that a proposition?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Then I accept." 

Coulson smirks, stepping back to take her hand, allowing their fingers to entwine together.

As they set off once more leaving behind the beautiful fountain, he reminds himself to once again thank Daisy for making this possible. Her actions of pulling some strings have gotten him a night he greatly appreciates. It will be a moment he holds close to get him through the next few days until they head home to DC. 

Of course, with rare moments such as this, there is also a downside to such indulgence, which is simply him craving even more of a normal life, with Melinda. 

....... ....... .......


	10. Book Club

It's a rainy Sunday night in DC, thunder rumbles distantly in the stormy sky but inside May's loft apartment, the fire roars fighting away any lingering chill that dares to settle throughout the open plan room. The atmosphere inside is peaceful and relaxed, the occupants content. A lovely dinner had earlier been shared and now with a glass of red wine each, they sit on either end of the couch just enjoying one another's company. 

It's nice, really nice actually. The perfect way to end the week. 

This is the most relaxed he's felt in days, considering he as well as May and the Secret Service, have had to deal with the wolf in the herd who's now in the wind. Grant Ward continues to be a pain in his ass no matter the situation and whatever plans the man has must be stopped before they can be executed. But as ever in dealing with such things, comes stress. Though tonight, the stress has slowly started to seep away, almost as soon as his key entered the lock on arrival before he'd crossed the threshold into what has become his most treasured escape haven. 

Melinda gives him that. She always has, even when they weren't together but even more so now. Even when she's not paying him any attention like right now, where her attention is focused solely upon the novel in her hands. Her presence is enough to sooth his very soul and warm his heart. 

Where she has her feet resting in his lap, Coulson massages her right foot, thumbs pressing into the heel drawing a satisfied sigh from the woman who as always, has captured his attention. For a few quiet moments, he simply watches her, taking the opportunity afforded to him. 

"I can feel you staring," she mutters eventually, eyes never wavering from the page. 

"Does it bother you?" 

"No," she says, eyes still moving across the page. "But may I ask the cause of your fascination?" She takes a sip of her wine. 

"I like watching beautiful things, mainly I just like watching you." 

Her eyebrows rise and so do her eyes, finally looking over the book at him. "What do you want?" 

His expression is innocent which only proves he's anything but. "Nothing," he replies with a twinkle in his eyes. "Why do you assume I would want something?" 

"That look right there on your face, usually proves you do." 

"Well, this time I don't."

She doesn't believe him, so May decides to play along. "Well that's just fine, because I'm enjoying this book." 

Coulson lets out a tiny huff at her playing him at his own game. "What's it about?" 

Her eyes fall back to the page. "A murder, it's thrilling and romantic." 

"The murder's romantic?" 

"Nooo," she says, stretching out the word, tone clouded in exasperation. "The lead detectives have fallen in love, while working undercover to catch their suspect. Maria recommended it." 

"Since when has my Secretary of State started to recommend books? Is there a Coulson administration book club I'm unaware of?" 

A roll of her eyes follow his queries. "Phil?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Shut up, I'm trying to read." May takes a sip of wine to hide her smile. 

Coulson huffs. "I can't believe you're actually reading that. You hate books like that."

"This is different?" 

"Why?" 

"Because it is, now be quiet, it's getting to the good stuff." 

"The good stuff?" 

May ignores him as she continues on with the plot. 

Coulson stares, hazel eyes watch beautiful brown scan over the written word. When her lips twitch as if holding back a smile, curiosity gets the better of him. He lifts her feet and shifts, moving to fall into the gap between her and the back on the couch, his body pressed half on hers. He reaches out and turns her hands slightly so he can see the page. His gaze finds a random sentence and he begins to read aloud. _"Lust and wanton need overcome the detectives and soon they find themselves a mass of tangled limbs upon red satin sheets. He finds her ready and wanting and she takes a hold of his throbbing love stick and directs him to her..._ What the hell are you reading?" 

"It's good." 

"It's awful-- Throbbing love stick? Jesus Christ Mel." 

May ignores him and how right he is. The problem is, it is awful, truly awful but she's the kind of person who once she starts something she won't stop. This book will be seen through until the very end. Unfortunately. 

_"Her bosom heaves as she gyrates above him, taking his throbbing shaft deeper into her treasured garden."_

She slaps his hand away. "Don't mock my reading material." 

"Mock it?" Coulson says looking angst, "I should write an executive order on the basis this author never writes such reading material ever again." 

"I like it." 

"No, you don't. You just won't admit to it." 

May once more ignores him, flicking another page. 

As she pretends to enjoy her God awful book, his attention turns elsewhere. The oversized sweater she's wearing has slipped off her shoulder, baring her smooth skin to his gaze. The hand that had joined hers upon the book moves to investigate the exposed area. Gently, fingertips almost ghost across the skin, starting across her shoulder then to her exposed collarbone. Not being able to resist, his lips lower to map the area, his teeth graze and his tongue flicks. 

"What are you doing now?" 

"Nothing." 

"It certainly doesn't feel like nothing." She shifts against him and his response can be felt pressing into her leg. _Well hello there..._

"Actually, something has just occured to me." 

May tilts her head, allowing him more access to her as his tongue swipes over her pulse point. "And what's that?"

His hand wanders away down her body. "I have a throbbing love stick of my own that can make your bosom heave." 

She can't help it when she laughs at his absurd attempt of flirt. "Mr President?" 

Coulson lifts his head, eyes sparkling. "Yes ma'am?" 

"Never _ever_ say that again, understood?"

"Of course," he replies steadfast, "but first, lets put it to the test." 

"You want to make my bosom heave?" May questions, barely managing to keep a straight face. 

"Yes-- and I want to make you come, hard."

"We never got to that part of the book." 

"Doesn't matter, we'll skip ahead and make it up as we go."

Her eyes meet his and then his mouth meets hers. He kisses her as if it's the first and last time, throughly and completely, his tongue demanding the taste of her. It ignites the fire allowing the flames to grow. Hands move over each other, sliding buttons undone, lowering zippers... peeling away every layer until bare skin presses to bare skin. Settling between her thighs, he groans against her lips when she rocks against him. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, as hers scrape along his spine making him arch into her. Her legs wrap around him but he makes a noise of protest, sliding his mouth away from hers. 

"Not yet," he murmurs against her skin. Each word is punctuated with a wet kiss down to her neck, where he then bites lightly at the curve of her shoulder, his tongue sweeping out to sooth after. She mutters his name, fingers threading into his short hair as he sucks hard, marking her not once, but twice as his own. He reaches behind him to unlock her legs from around his waist before moving lower, paying due attention to her breasts and he realises as her reactions grow louder, he could drive her over like this but he doesn't, not yet. Instead he lets it build up. He continues on mapping his way down her body, finding spots old and new alike that draw whimpers from her glorious mouth. It isn't long before he's settled where he wants for the time being to be, nipping and kissing at the soft supple flesh of the inside her thighs. 

His eyes find her center, slowly but purposely he slides his fingers between her legs spreading her warm folds. He finds her wet and wanting. Leaning in, he brushes his mouth over her. "So lovely," Coulson whispers against her, then he finds her clit, suckling it and circling it with his tongue. 

May lets out a soft whimper as he moves away from the sensitive bud, and her eyes fluttered open to glance down. It's an intoxicating sight, seeing his head between her thighs and knowing she has the President of the United States on his knees for her. 

His tongue slides through her folds to her entrance then back up, over and over until finally his fingers join in the dance, sliding two inside as he really gets to work. He works at her over and over, slowing when she nears only to pick up the pace once more. He continues on the sweet torture of drawing it out until he can tell her resolve is truly faltering. A chorus of sounds and words simply begging, spill from her mouth and he gives her what she so greatly needs. He curls two fingers into her as hard and as deeply as he can manage and sucks her clit once, twice, until she's falling with his name upon her lips. He doesn't move away, not immediately, he stays in place moving his hand slowly to draw out her release. Looking up he watches her, chest heaving as she pants through and he can't help but feel proud of himself, but he isn't finished yet. Not by a long way. 

"Okay?" 

May looks down at him and nods, reaching down to push away his hand. "Come here." 

They move together until their settled, Coulson sat upon the couch with May straddling him. She leans forward closing the miniscule space between them to kiss him and then shifts backwards slightly, her hand reaching between them to touch him for the first time as she guides him into place. Not for the first time since this started do they disregard the need for protection.

"Definitely throbbing," she comments against his lips as she sinks down, taking every possible inch of him inside of her. 

He groans when she settles fully upon him and once again acknowledges there's no greater feeling than being buried deep and bare inside Melinda May.

"Time to gyrate upon my love stick." 

She smothers a laugh against his mouth. "Stop it," she tells him firmly, trying to be serious. To punish his ridiculousness, she squeezes her inner muscles tightly around him. 

"Fuck me." 

"Indeed." 

She does it again and laughs as his eyes widen, pupils blown and eyes almost black with a desperate need only she can cure. May has never laughed during sex as much as she has with Phil and it's something she discovered she enjoys immensely. 

"Melinda." He's watching her from his position beneath her, the heavy weight of his gaze burning into her as he waits for her to move. His right hand traces from her throat down the valley of her breasts and lower to settle at her waist. 

She braces her one hand on the back of the couch with the other buried in his hair. Meeting his eyes, she starts to move. All to soon they find and fall into a rhythm which is slow and steady. Her eyes never waver from his, never. This right now with all joking set aside is about connection. There's a time and place where a hard and fast fuck is welcome but not right now. Now this slow pace of their lovemaking is what they both crave. Drawing out and making each sensation last, falling deeper into the feeling of one another. It's all consuming and burning, growing hotter and brighter until every fibre of their beings are a light with fire racing through their veins. Every nerve ending feels like fireworks exploding beneath their skin as they move and move, over and over against one another. Pushing down that little bit harder on to him. 

They continue on for what feels like an age, stoking the flames bigger, time all but evaporates around them. 

"Phil--" her forehead drops to his as she feels the edge nearing closer. 

"That's it, come on..." he pants, a groan escaping as he moves his hand between them. His thumb finds her throbbing clit. "Let go, come for me." He encourages as her hands tighten in his hair. 

"Phil." 

"Yes." 

"I--" 

His gaze remains locked upon hers and he senses what she needs. So using his weight he tilts them sideways so he's above her. His hands finds hers and he presses them down into the plush cushions beneath them. Her hips move in tune with his own as he thrusts into her, hard, over and over until she arches beneath him. A sound consisting a mixture of a keen and moan escape around his name loudly, as she falls into oblivion. Her orgasm blinding and electrifying in it's intensity, so much so it literally takes her breath away and threathens her world with darkness. Distantly he realises the detail stationed outside would be hard pressed not to hear her cries but he remains unconcerned. Because his control snaps at the feel of her muscles tightening and pulsing around him and it rips his own release forward and he comes hard into her, thrusting two, three more times into her before collapsing into her ready arms. 

They stay like that for a long while after, limbs too heavy and sluggish to move. 

May breathes slowly feeling her heartbeat returning to normal and runs her hand through his damp hair. "You really did make my bosom heave, Mr President." 

He snorts a laugh and mumbles something intangible, pushing his face further into her neck. His lips press a kiss to her skin. "We should finish the book." 

May shifts her head to look at him. "We huh?" 

Coulson shrugs, tightening his arms around her as he shifts to slip free with a groan. "It's thrilling and romantic," he replies, repeating her own words back to her. 

"No, it's fucking awful actually." 

Coulson laughs, lifting up on his forearms to look down at her. Framing her face, his thumb brushes her lower lip before he kisses her softly. 

"That's the last time I take a book recommendation from Maria," May mutters when the kiss breaks. 

In that moment as his lips trace her cheek, she glares at the offending paperback dumped unceremoniously upon the floor and not thinking it possible, he falls even more in love with her. 

....... ....... .......


	11. Against the Odds

....... ....... .......

This is just her luck, after closing the chapter of her life which held this particular opportunity after such an experience as Bahrain, here she now finds herself. The likelihood of such an event occurring was always highly probable, with the odds exactly the same which exists for the outcome, fifty/fifty.

May knows that, of course she does, anyone with half a brain cell knows that... but it doesn't make the situation any easier. 

Despite everything, _this possibility_ , she never expected to be confronted with it. 

The weather beyond her floor to ceiling windows match her mood perfectly. As the rain pours, drops randomly hitting the expanse to run haphazardly down the glass over and over, her anxiety slowly soars higher. 

On her way home after a twelve hour shift accompanying Phil across the Capital to fulfil engagements, she had made one quick stop before returning home. The purchase remains abandoned for the time being beside the bathroom sink, where she'd left it before stripping away her clothes to take a shower. If the intention had been to relax beneath the steady stream of warm water raining down upon her tense frame, it failed to succeed in doing so. She remained tense as she stepped out. Ignorance had played a key part, ignoring what lay abandoned as she went about dressing into a comfy lounge set and drying her hair, steam still rising around her until she finally exited the room. 

Twenty minutes have passed since she left the bathroom and here she stands, gazing out as the rain continues to fall. 

It's taking every ounce of effort within her to not think about it and about what this could mean. To distract herself, May wanders away and allows the simple task of making a cup of tea consume her, going through the familair motions as the smell of camomile fills her senses. With her mug cradled between her palms, May heads back to her bedroom, sitting in the chair beside the window. The rain still falls heavily, which isn't a surprise, DC has suffered under grey clouds and heavy downpours for the last week or so. Her eyes track the dark clouds across the darkening sky. Phil will arrive later, in a few hours or so, earlier if he can having cleared his schedule to come over for dinner. So she has some time but it doesn't seem like enough. 

The circumstances she finds herself faced with, is one she knew a possibility. That has already been established. She knew this could happen because measures to prevent such a thing where not always taken into consideration or utilised. There had been times, more than she'd care to admit, where caution was thrown out the window and the responsibility of those decisions, she takes full ownership of. At this age knowing better is a vast understatement, this is on them, especially given the situation they find themselves in. Frivolous behaviour cannot exist and now, she's faced with the possible consequence of their reckless actions. 

It's taking everything within her not to think about the actual reality of this, one way or the other. Not yet. She doesn't want to think, to allow herself the hope of one answer over the other. 

She can't. 

What feels like an absolute age crawls by at snail pace, gaze never wavering from the rain drenched view beyond the glass. 

Time has become irrelevant. 

But the time has come. 

Rising from her chair eventually, May heads back to the en-suite, picking up the slim package where it still rests upon the sink innocently. Her movements are almost robotic as she returns to the plush seat beside the window, fingers working automatically to open the box and retrieve the small pamphlet within. At the drugstore she'd been expecting a bigger selection than what they actually had to offer, apparently it seems DC is experiencing a possible baby boom because there were only two options available from brands she didn't recognise. Once again, faced with a fifty/fifty option May had chosen the most expensive promising accuracy. Now, she reads every word held within the pamphlet, from instructions to results. Why? A simply yet effective stalling tactic. Even though its all very straightforward; pee on the stick, wait three minutes then check the little digital screen for either the word pregnant or not pregnant. Simple yet fucking terrifying. Yet May reads every word twice until eventually realisation hits that it's time. She can stall no more. 

Time has slowly dragged by and she's not sure how much has actually passed. It could be ten minutes or two hours. Nothing exists right now outside of this. 

Nothing exists outside of positive and negative. 

The tea she poured awhile ago has grown cold, which isn't disappointing considering it hasn't had the desired effect she'd hoped in calming her rising anxiety in the first place. Her body practically hums with nervous energy as she finally sets about taking the test. With a deep breath, she does as the instructions tell her and when she's done, she washes her hands and backs away from where the test now sits back in its place beside the sink. She returns to her seat, setting a timer on her phone for three minutes and looks to her window. Deep calming inhales, in and out, in and out, over and over and over again.

It all feels way too fast now the test had been taken, a total contrast of before where time seemed to stand still, when the timer loudly chimes indicating it's time, she tenses. 

Her gaze moves from her phone to the bathroom door. 

This has to be one of the most nervous and most unsure moments she's ever experienced.

Unsure of what could possibly come next. Two possibilities. One, where everything remains the same and the other, where everything changes. 

Her feet carry her as if on autopilot back to the bathroom, her eyes remain straight ahead and suddenly she's faced with her own reflection staring back at her. It's in that moment as she sees herself down, where she's forced to face her feelings, feelings that have been harshly buried down. Hope and want are the two dominating emotions as well as anxiety, worry lingers like an old friend as her stomach rolls. The one constant thought, which has subtly been hovering near the forefront of her mind, making it so easy to ignore, suddenly rears it's ugly head once more, waving it's arms wildly with vengeance as if to say, " _I'm here! I'm here! Look! Look! This is what you feel! This is what you want!"_ Which is true but May refuses to acknowledge the voice's presence because it's easier that way, even as it screams in her mind. 

Pushing everything aside, inhaling a fortified breath and clenching her trembling hands into fists, May looks down and the air within her lungs feels as though it's been ripped violently forth. 

_Not pregnant._

Two simple words which hold such weight stare back at her from the little screen upon the white stick.

_Not pregnant._

It hurts far worse than she imagined it would and that voice which moments ago has been screaming _"I want this, please. I want this, please,"_ over and over aburptly halts and fades into the dark expanse of nothing within the back of her mind. Deep down, despite not acknowledging it, the thought of being pregnant with Phil's baby filled her with such joyful emotion it was suffocating. The thought of a tiny life, a little person they created together out of love, was an indulgence she couldn't allow herself. It hurt, like a knife to the heart. Before taking the test May couldn't allow herself such thoughts, couldn't allow her hopes to rise to such heights, because the odds were even, fifty/fifty and very clearly, not in her favour. She isn't pregnant, she isn't going to be a mother. She won't carry Phil's baby within her. Two simple yet crushing words staring up at her were clear evidence of that. 

_Not pregnant._

The sting of tears hit her pretty brown eyes harshly and she blinks back against them, not allowing them the opportunity to fall. She will not cry, she won't. With a sweep of her hand, the test falls with a soft thud into the wastebasket. Turning away, May kills the bathroom lights before moving back into her bedroom. Standing before the windows, she stares out across the city, watching the early evening sky light up with lightening. May takes a moment to center herself, to focus on what comes next. The test was negative. Now she has to take the hit, swallow the hurt and move on. Because life goes on, despite everything and with that, comes dinner. She has to start dinner soon before Phil arrives. 

Which apparently is now. She'd been so lost in thought, so lost in stalling with the test. 

The sound of the front door opening and closing draws her attention to the clock and apparently, the time before his arrival really has all to quickly evaporated. It's with perfect timing when she looks to the bedroom door that he appears, tired and wary after a long day, his suit jacket already abandoned and tie loosened. His smile upon seeing her makes her heart positively _fucking_ ache and it makes that negative test result hurt even greater. 

He would have made such a wonderful father. 

The tears rush back with vengeance, like a fucking tsunami. 

It must show on her face because his smile quickly falters and he closes across the bedroom to her side all to quickly. 

"You okay?" He asks softly, his hands gentle at her waist. "What's wrong?" 

The debate had been held prior to this moment, she'd argued with herself whether she should tell him beforehand but settled on afterwards, no matter the result. He had the right to know. There's also the simple fact she couldn't hide this from him, which was abundantly clear as soon as he walked in the door, he knew something to be wrong. 

The only thing now though, she never thought through what she would actually say, the words. The words seem impossible to form. May hasn't the opportunity to think it over because her silence is slowly freaking him out further, she can tell, so she just says it. Short and sweet, to the point.

"I thought I was pregnant, but I'm not." 

This time, it's Coulson who's quiet. Her words knocking the air right out of him. "What?" He eventually mutters, shock evident as he takes a step closer. 

"I missed my period this month, I'm two weeks late. So I took a test." 

It lingers there between them. 

May watches him absorb the information. 

"It was negative?" Coulson asks quietly. 

Her eyes search his face but his handsome features are a blank canvas. She wishes there were something to give away how he's feeling but there's nothing. Of all the times to develope a poker face. "Yes."

"Oh," he whispers, his eyes closing briefly as he lets out a sigh so heavy. "I-- are you-- I mean..." he stumbles over his words. 

"What?" May asks quietly, looking at him for a sign of what he's asking. "Phil?" 

He licks his lips, looking unsure if he should ask what he wants to ask, but he does. "Are you glad of the result?" 

The question hits her harder than she imagined and she can see his anxiety having questioned it. He's playing it safe, hiding how he feels until he knows her reaction. 

"Honestly?" 

Coulson nods. 

"It wasn't the result I wanted, no." 

He exhales a shaky breath then, hands leaving her hips to cradle her face. "I'm sorry." Sadness now clouds his features, settles in his eyes. Now allowing his feelings on the subject to show. "I'm sorry." 

"Me too." The sting of tears returns and her lower lip trembles so she bites it, hard. 

" _Melinda_." 

The way he says her name is all it takes for her to fall into him, her face burying itself in his shoulder. Her fingers curl harshly into the back of his expensive white shirt. As she clings to him, one question which she already suspects the answer to lingers at the forefront of her mind. Suspecting and knowing is two very different things and she needs to know, needs to hear the words, even if there are hard to bare. 

"Would you have wanted it?" 

His arms tighten around her, his lips pressing fervently against her bare shoulder where the oversized sweater has slipped. "More than anything." 

Three words, spoken so simply, so greatly powerful and without hesitation. 

They hit her just as hard as the two words still haunting her. 

_Not pregnant._

And as the rain continues to pour, as the lightening illuminates the sky and thunder rumbles, they cling to one another, tears falling on what could have been. They take great comfort from their love as they mourn an opportunity lost to odds, which were not in their favour.

This time. 

....... ....... ....... 


	12. New Day

....... ....... .......

It's funny how something so small can have such an effect. 

Two words. That's all it had taken. Two words.

Not pregnant. 

The feelings experienced in that moment were still acutely felt despite the time to which has passed by. 

The fallout, if you will, turned out to be far greater than she anticipated it could be. 

It made her reevaluate certain aspects of her life she thought not lost, but rather, cast aside harshly, seeing no other alternative. Despite the heartbreaking event to rock her world in Bahrain years ago and the subsequent decision made in the aftermath, taking that test last week had reinforced a truth she had long since buried. She very much wants to be a mother, she very much wants a child and she very much wants to create one with Phil. All the experiences, the milestones, she wants them to belong to her, to them. 

But current circumstances however, do not allow for such wants to become a reality, of course not, how could they? In the time which followed the negative result, it had quickly dawned upon her the disastrous fallout they had so nearly avoided. A fifty/fifty chance either way. Everything could have fallen apart because they had been careless. The test last week had forced them as a couple to sit down and talk, talk about the responsibility they hold in taking measures to ensure such wants cannot happen, however much they wish otherwise, because they did and do both want it, very much. Which is another thing discussed, for the first time since this began between them all those months ago at Camp David, they talked openly about what they want beside each other. It had made her heart ache hearing him say he would have wanted the baby that never was and that ache intensified when he told her it would be something he would love to explore with her in future. 

But again, it wouldn't be so easy, because of who they are and because of what their doing. He's the President of the United States and she's the head of his security detail and their partaking in a clandestine relationship. 

So the future he wished for them to explore can only remain a dream, a dream set out to torture them further for being nothing but an impossibility. 

At least for now. 

But it hadn't been all doom and gloom in the aftermath of those two words which appeared to rock her world. 

Those two words had a profound effect upon them and their closeness, meaning it drew them closer and tighter together. With effortless thought, she knew Phil to be worried about her, because he was one of very few people to know what happened in that warehouse in hot and dusty Bahrain that fateful day and the decision she made thereafter. As a result, the routine they had so painstakingly established had been broken as Phil spent more nights here than he did at the White House. 

A risk, but a risk worth taking because it gave them more quality, precious time together. 

Last night, delivering exactly that once again, leading to another morning where they awoke tangled in warm soft sheets and each other. 

Now, as she slowly moves from position to position, breathing calm steady breaths, her pulse steady as the city stirs awake beyond her window, a small smile graces her face as she hears him moving around in the kitchen. There's such a sense of domesticity that now exists her which she just adores. Her motions continue on, her body and mind taking comfort from the familiar movements of her early morning Tai Chi routine and just as she draws to a close, he appears in the bedroom doorway with impeccable timing. 

She takes a minute to admire him, dressed in perfectly pressed pants, a crisp white shirt and striped navy tie. His eyes are tired yet alert and focused entirely upon her, a soft lovely smile spreads across his handsome face as he looks at her. 

"Breakfast is ready," Coulson tells her quietly, still feeling the lull of such an early hour upon him. He's never understood her ability to rise at such a godforsaken hour but, rising with her he does, allowing him extra time before he heads off back to the White House to run this glorious country. 

May wanders her way towards him, accepting the cup of tea he hands over with a grateful sigh. Stepping into him, a smile touches her lips when his hands find her waist, his lips against hers follows soon after. 

"Good morning." 

He grunts low, his head falling into the crook of her neck, breathing her in as he returns her greeting. "Good morning." 

They stay exactly like that leaning against the doorway and each other for a few moments before breakfast calls to them. Phil heads back out as she makes a move to grab his discarded sweater from the end of the bed. Slipping it on, she wanders out of the bedroom after him, feeling for the first time a little lighter within herself. She feels good, well rested even after a late night, freshly showered and ready for the day ahead, well, she will be after some food. Walking to the kitchen, her feet make barely a sound as her toes sink into the plush carpet beneath them and it allows her the opportunity to take in the man who comes into her view. 

Now seated at the table, Phil sits quietly, dishes set out before him yet breakfast isn't what holds his attention. This morning's newspaper is open as he browses through the headlines, across the room on low volume the TV is on showing the CNN morning coverage of world news. This has become a routine for them when he can stay, their mornings becoming a fast favourite for her. 

Its nice and lazy and it delivers a fair few moments more for them to enjoy together before they start the day. She adores waking up to find them wrapped around each other, sleep still heavy in their movements as they make love before retreating from the warm sheets to an even warmer shower. After, as he makes breakfast, she performs her morning Tai Chi which leads to them sharing a quiet breakfast before he has to leave.

Closing the gap which remains, she runs her hand along his shoulder in greeting once more.

His beautiful eyes, bright behind his glasses despite the deary start of the day, meet her own. His eyes matched with his smile can brighten even the darkest of days.

Dropping down into her chair, she scrutinises the breakfast laid out before her. His habit of thoroughly enjoying feeding people continues. A bowl of granola with Greek yogurt, accompanied by fresh blueberries, strawberries and raspberries. Clearly there's been an abuse of power because a plate rests filled with lemon drizzle muffins and croissants from her favourite bakery two blocks away. Clearly he sent one of the agents stationed outside off to retrieve the order. There's also orange juice and coffee, the latter for him as he already delivered to her, her much beloved tea.

As she digs in, May watches him scan the sports pages before settling on the crossword as he absently eats a croissant. Just as she bites into a raspberry, his voice reaches her.

"How did you sleep?"

There would be no use in denying how restless she's been, her mind tumbling with thoughts, her body a storm of feelings. 

"Better," she easily admits, completely truthful. Then adds to tease and keep things light, "thanks to you."

Even though his attention never wavers from the crossword grid, he smirks at the teasing reminder of the night before. Coulson doesn't have to say anything because his smugness radiates.

Her own attention remains on her breakfast, though she can't help but roll her eyes. His smugness is rightly deserved. Not for the first time does she marvel this man. He just has this way of doing things, dedicated, relentless and focused and he never, ever disappoints. Perfect example being this morning where she could barely feel her legs as she went through her Tai Chi routine. He had delivered a very pleasant wake up by working his mouth endlessly against her pushing her into hypersensitivity, leaving her a quivering mess with no option but to push him away. Last night had been the first night where they'd had sex after the test and it showed, there had been a slowness to it and by extension, tentative. They made love slowly, responsibly, drawing it out to just enjoy the connection which thrives between them. It had been nice and so had this morning.

His hand on her wrist draws her back and May realises she slipped back into the memories of last night and this morning all to easily. 

"You alright?"

"I'm fine, sorry, my mind wandered."

"Anywhere nice?"

Hiding her smirk never crosses her mind. "I was just thinking about last night.... and this morning."

Coulson's smirk matches her own. Reaching out his hand cups her face to draw her closer to kiss her. He can't resist. He tastes like coffee and mint and he smells absolutely divine. So it's an easy transition to make from her chair to his lap, her arms sliding around his neck as the kiss deepens. It continues on until it naturally slows, both knowing it can go no further. Not this time. Yet May doesn't move from his embrace, instead she steals a piece of his croissant and then his pen, where with ease fills in the clue for six across.

Much to his annoyance.

A playful scowl settles on his face as she moves from one clue to another. "Agent May?" His voice takes on an air of authority normally reserved for the Oval.

"Yes Sir?" She answers seriously, playing along.

"Please get your own crossword, this one is mine--"

Her lips smother his words then a double, brisk knock at the front door smothers their quiet breakfast with a dose of reality.

Unfortunately, the time has come to start the day and the life that exists outside of this bubble is roaring it's ugly head. 

Coulson sighs against her, knowing the time has come where he has to take his leave from this place that has become his refuge, his home.

May slides from his lap, allowing him the opportunity to stand. She leans against the table as he finishes getting ready. Her eyes follow him as he slides on his suit jacket then his overcoat. He grabs his stainless steel travel mug, filled ready to go and makes his way back to her.

"I'll see you later."

"You will."

Today, she has the afternoon shift and will accompany him to the numerous meetings he has scheduled later on. 

Coulson kisses her again slowly, lingering a little like he always does when it comes the time to leave. Never actually wanting to. 

"Have a good day," she wishes him quietly, knowing all to well the meetings he has to look forward to. 

The domesticity of this scene hits her again full force, because here she is, wishing the man in her life a good day as he heads off to work, where she will later follow. It's a snapshot of what a normal life would look like if they lived normal lives... but alas, they don't. So this remains nothing but a snapshot into what could be. 

Casting aside such thoughts, picking up the folded newspaper, she hands it over. "I won't say I told you so when you fail to complete it without my help."

Accepting it, he frowns. 

May smiles. 

Which in turn, turns his frown into a soft smile as he rolls his eyes behind his glasses. "Finish breakfast okay? The muffins are really good." 

"I will." 

One last lingering kiss, a whispered goodbye and he's gone, slipping out the door to greet Daisy who offers a wave before the door closes behind him. 

And then she's alone, and all too quickly she's once again reminded of how lonely and cold this loft apartment feels without him in it. 

With a sigh, she grabs her bowl of granola, a muffin and her tea to head to the couch, dropping down onto it to watch the remaining minutes of CNN's world news broadcast. The day is slowly but surely awakening beyond her window, the sky deary still but for now, she'll sit here finishing her breakfast like she promised. Knowing all to soon she'll have to slip from Melinda, back to Agent May. 

The woman who protects the President of the United States, but more importantly, the man she loves. 

....... ....... .......


End file.
